Leave of Absence
by Wiccagirl24
Summary: Sara turned in a leave of absence form and left Vegas three weeks ago. So why is she at Desert Palms Hospital?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own CSI. Or is it the CSI DVD's? I can never remember which.

Spoilers: Takes place during season five. Greg passed his proficiency test, but the team hasn't been split up yet. Anything is fair game.

Chapter 1

"Griss, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Grissom looked up from his desk to see Sara in her favorite pose, leaning against the door frame of his office. His simple nod was enough for her. She walked farther into the room, and Grissom was surprised when she turned and closed the door behind her before sitting down in one of the chairs facing his desk.

"There's no easy way to say this, so here." Her voice had harsh tone to it, as if she had to force the words out. When he saw the paper in her hands he understood why. He almost didn't reach for it. As if by not accepting it he could refuse the words written on the stark white page. He pushed the thought aside as quickly as it came.

"Why?" He had to know the reason for this. It was like a horrible case of de ja vu. Sara in his office, giving him a signed leave of absence form. Four years ago she had almost left, and now it was happening again.

"I need some time off. A couple of months. Six, maybe." There was a flash of something in her eye. Regret? Pain? He couldn't tell, and it was gone too quickly.

It was only a month ago that her suspension had ended. That week had seemed to last forever. He couldn't fathom how bleak six months would be without Sara around.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Shorter hours? Different assignments? The lab needs you here, Sara..." No, that wasn't quite right. He took a deep breath. "I need you here."

She smiled at that. _I need you. _Words she had only heard once before, but not said with the same tone. She almost wished she could say yes. Yes, I'll stay. Yes, you can rip up the stupid form and we can go back to the way things were. But it was too late for that now.

"I'm sorry, Griss. I already leased out my apartment. I'm leaving at the end of the week."

"Is it the F.B.I?" He couldn't help it. He knew the words sounded bitter, but he had to know.

"No." She shook her head. "It's not the F.B.I. or any other job. I just need some time off. I'll... I'll be in touch." With that she stood up and left the room. Grissom sat in his chair, unsure of what had just happened, but filled with a dread that there was nothing he could do to change it.

The following week passed in aching slowness and uncommon speed, defying all natural laws of time. Although he had not said anything it was obvious that the others knew about Sara's impending departure, because her final shift ended with presents and a cake covered in blue icing spelling out "Bon Voyage." There were hugs all around, and even Grissom received a quick squeeze. He thought that maybe Sara's eyes lingered on him longer then the others as she left, but it might have been his imagination. One last smile from the other side of the break room glass, and she was gone.

"Did she tell anyone where she was going?" Nick encored of the remaining grave yard CSI's.

"Not a word. Wouldn't give me an address when I asked if I could write to her. Just said to use her same e-mail." Greg answered Nick's question in a voice more subdued then usual. Sara's departure had effected all of them.

Nick, Greg, Catherine and Warrick lingered in the break room, talking about where Sara might be going. "I hope it's somewhere warm."Cath was saying. "She could use a vacation."

"True that." Warrick agreed.

The conversation soon moved on to stories of favorite vacations. Grissom couldn't listen anymore. The others didn't notice as he slipped out of the room and headed down the hall to his office. He could always count on the ever present pile of paperwork on his desk to fill a few hours. If he worked late enough he might be tired when he got home. Too tired to think about Sara. Doubtful, but he could always hope.

It had been three weeks since she had left. Twenty two days, to be exact, not that he was counting. Every morning for the last twenty two days he had gone to sleep thinking of her; where she might be, what she might be doing. During the day he would catch himself thing about her too. He would read a journal article, or see something on the discovery channel, and think "I have to tell Sara about that." And then he would remember._ Did I always think about her this much and not realize it? _He had e-mailed her twice. Short friendly notes, about Greg's latest pranks, the burglary suspect who flirted with Nick, and the more interesting events happening in the lab. She had replied with even shorter notes. _Everything's fine, leave me alone, _they seemed to say. Grissom had thought that they were getting along better in the past month, beginning to repair their friendship. Maybe he was wrong.

The sharp ringing of the phone shook him out of his thoughts.

"Grissom. What's the address? I'll meet you there." Within minutes he was out of his townhouse and on his way to a crime scene, glad as always for the job he loved to take his mind off of the his personal life. Or lack there of.

The victim of the stabbing Brass had called him in for was still alive. After processing the scene Grissom sent Greg back to the lab with the evidence while he went to the hospital to interview one Mr. Eric Curson. Walking down the hallway of Desert Palms, Grissom was shocked to see the absolute last person he was expecting as he rounded a corner.

"Sara?" he whispered to himself. He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. She had been in his thoughts so much lately that it should not surprise him if any tall lanky brunette made him think of her when seen from behind. But then she turned around. It was her.

"Sara." His voice was louder this time.

Sara heard her name being called, and out of habit turned to answer the voice. The voiceshe realized too late, was_ his _voice Panic rose up in her. _Oh God, no. What was he doing here? _She looked around her for a way to escape, but Grissom stood between her and both the stairs and the elevator. She was trapped. Suddenly the door behind her opened. She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or horrified.

"Their ready for you now, Miss Siddle."

Without a word to the man staring at her, Sara turned and walked through the now open doorway.

Grissom stood frozen in the middle of the hospital hallway. The expression in Sara's eyes as they meet his had been fearful. There was no other word for it. A thousand questions floated through his mind. _ What is Sara doing in Las Vegas? I thought she said she was leaving. Is she back? Why didn't she call? Why is she at the hospital? _As he approached the door she had walked through moments earlier his questions only multiplied. The small sign next to the door read 'patients only beyond this point.'

He was waiting for her when she came out. She knew he would be. A part of her was surprised that he hadn't followed her into the room. But then, Grissom had never been one to rush into places, unless it was a crime scene. He was standing in the hallway, in almost exactly the same place he had been when she left him twenty minutes ago. Hands in his pockets, head cocked ever-so-slighty to one side, it was a pose she was all too familiar with. It meant that the next words out of his mouth would be a question. Not that she had to be well versed in Grissomese to know that.

For a moment Sara considered lying. Making up an excuse, a sick friend, a research project. She might be able to pull it off, at least long enough to get away. She even opened her mouth, ready to tell him the first thing that came to her mind. Suddenly, though, she was overwhelmed with nausea. _Oh, please. Not now. _Last time she had been able to get home before the debilitating sickness took over, leaving her wiped out for the rest of the day. It would be just her luck that today would be different.

"Grissom, I..." She tried to think of something, anything, that would allow her to escape quickly, with some modicum of her dignity still intact. It was too late. Another wave of nausea, and she forgot all about Grissom and what he might be thinking. She ran down the hallway, making to the women's bathroom without any time to spare. Leaning over the toilet, she reluctantly reacquainted herself with this morning's breakfast. For a moment she was reminded of last year, and her brief bout of alchohol-as-coping-mechanism that had lead to similar rushes to that bathroom. What she would give if all that was plaguing her now was a hangover. _Well, shit. _Her stomach rebelling, Sara leaned over the toilet once more.

It only took Grissom a second to follow Sara down the hallway. Given the speed of her departure, he wasn't really surprised to hear the muffled sounds of retching coming from within the restroom. He gave her five minutes alone, but when the sounds didn't cease he cautiously opened the swinging door and followed her inside. She was crouched in the last stall, pale and trembling but no longer throwing up. He paused at one of the sinks and wet a paper towel before kneeling behind her trembling form.

"Sara?" he questioned gently as he wiped her face with the damp towel. The look she gave him stopped any further questioning. Her eyes were tired and haunted, and in that moment all he wanted to do was pull her to him and whisper promises in her ear. Whatever this was, whatever she was going through, it would all be okay. He wanted to tell her that, but the words would not come. They never did. So instead he squeezed her shoulder gently, stood up and reached for her hand, repeating the words he had given her just months ago. "Come on. I'll take you home."

He was tempted to ask for a wheelchair when they passed the nurses station, but ten years experience with Sara Siddle stubbornness told him that as long as she could walk she would refuse. It was a sign of how sick she felt that she was letting herself lean so heavily on Grissom himself. He was, in fact, supporting almost all of her weight as she shuffled down the hallway. While buckling Sara into his Tahoe, he glanced around the parking lot. He was relived to see that Warrick's truck was parked a few spaces over, signaling that he had already arrived at the hospital to take over Grissom's case. Grissom had called him from the hallway outside the radiation room. Once he had seen Sara he had known that he couldn't let her get away without finding the answers to at least some of his questions.

Grissom had driven half way to her apartment when he remembered their conversation in his office and her brief mention of leasing out her place for six months.

"Sara?"

Sara rested heavily against the head rest, eyes closed in an effort to block out the sunlight that was aggravating her headache. She opened them warily when she heard her name and turned to look at Grissom.

"Hmm?"

"Where do you want me to take you?"

He spoke softly, as if already aware of the throbbing pain in her head. She puzzled over his words for a moment. Home. She wanted to go home, and wondered why he would think there was any other place she would rather be right now. And then she also remembered the conversation in his office, and the lie she had given him to make sure he didn't get any ideas about coming to visit her. Not that he would. Five years in Vegas and he had only been to her place once, the first week she had moved in.

"Home," she whispered, hating how weak her voice sounded. "To my apartment," she clarified, voice just a little bit stronger this time.

The look he gave her was full of questions, but he just nodded and turned back to the road. Sara sighed, knowing it was a temporary reprieve. There was no way she was going to escape without giving him answers. Real ones, this time. As Brass would say 'the jig is up.'

She must have fallen asleep in the car, because the next thing she knew she was being carried over the threshold of her apartment and into the dimly lit living room. She marveled at how effortlessly he carried her, even managing to unlock the door without putting her down. Taking a deep breath she was overwhelmed with the pure Grissomness of his smell. The soap he had used in the shower mingled with the clean cotton smell of his shirt. His skin carried just a trace of lemons, and she almost smiled. How often did she come home from work smelling like lemons? Beneath it all there was a scent she couldn't describe or analyze. A smell that was nothing more or less then Grissom himself. She was tempted to use her position and burrow even closer to him, but resisted. In the next moment she was laying down on her couch, and the loss of his closeness left her feeling bereft. Before she could even revel in the fact that Grissom's arms had been around her fatigue overcame her, and she sunk into its oblivion.

Grissom stood at the end of the couch, watching Sara's chest slowly rise and fall with each breath she took. The edge of her shirt had crept up when he laid her down, and he reached to tug it down. His fingers paused bare inches away from her as he froze in sudden awareness. For the first time he took in her appearance, not as a whole but bit by bit, like the scientist he was. Her skin, always pale from working the night shift so many years, was now so white as to be almost translucent. He could see the outline of her bottom rib, and felt sure that if he saw Sara without her shirt on he would be able to count each and everyone of her ribs. For as long as he had known her Sara had been thin, but this was something more. In the back of his mind he thought of images on the television screen, orphans in far away countries. There was a fine sheen of perspiration covering her forehead, dampening the fine hair at her temples. She looked frail, and that was wrong. Sara was strong. She raged against weakness, didn't give into it.

Like a lightening bolt it struck him, an overwhelming sensation of fear. Fear for Sara. Fear for himself. Something was wrong. More then wrong. And the thing that scared him the most was the fact that if it hadn't been for an accidental meeting, he would never have known. Sara was in trouble, and she never said a word to him.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note- I am not in the medical field, so I apologize up front for any inaccuracies. Thank you everyone for your supportive comments on chapter one.

Chapter 2

It was like walking out a a fog. Sara slowly came awake, opening her eyes to a blur of colors before they focused and she could make out the features of her living room. _How did I get here?_ The last thing she remembered was being at the hospital for her appointment. So how was it that she was at home, safely ensconced on her sofa and wrapped in a quilt?

With sudden clarity it all returned to her. See Grissom. Running away, first into the office and then to the bathroom. Grissom taking care of her, wiping her forehead, walking her to the car, bringing her home. She remembered, with dream like sureness, the sensation of Grissom carrying her into the apartment and the brief moment of peace she felt being in his arm and breathing in his scent.

A glance at the clock hanging on the wall told her that she had been asleep for more then three hours. The room was so silent that she thought maybe Grissom had gone home after making sure she was asleep. Part of her hoped that was true. Another part of her hoped just as strongly that it wasn't. As hard as it would be to face him, especially with all the questions she knew he had, she wanted a few more minutes to bask in his presence. And maybe, just maybe, telling him the truth would remove some of the burden she felt resting so heavily on her shoulders.

"Your awake."

_Well, that answered that question, at least. He was still here. _

Grissom entered the living room carrying a bottle of water, which he offered to Sara. She sat up to drink it, but the motion was a little to quick and the dizziness had her laying back down again.

"Thanks," she said as she sat up once again, slower this time. Her gratitude was not just for the water, but for everything. "Why don't you sit down."

Grissom sat at the end of the couch, angling his body so that he could face Sara. He looked her over slowly, noticing that she looked a little better then she had when he had first brought her home. There was some color in her cheeks now, though that could be as much from the heat of the quilt as from anything else. The dark circles under her eyes weren't quite as prominent. Her voice sounded more like it normally did, not like that faint whisper in the car that had pained him to hear.

"Sara, what's going on?" It was not the most delicate way to start a conversation, but no one had ever accused Grissom of having a perfect bedside manner. Any patience he might have started the day with had fallen away during three hours of pacing Sara's apartment, waiting for her to wake up as his mind created scenarios, each one worse then the last.

"I'm sick." Her answer was as simple and blunt as his question had been. Grissom's eyebrows raised in his 'Well, yeah" look, but unlike the many times she had seen the look in the past there was no glint of humor in his eyes. Sara knew she had to tell him everything, but was having trouble getting the words out. Grissom seemed to sense her reticence, because his face softened and he reached out to grasp one of her trembling hands in his own.

"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Sara closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She couldn't look him in the face. Instead she focused on his hand, so strong and warm. The heat from his hand seemed to seep into her own hand, warming it for the first time in weeks. She was always cold these days. Had been ever since she found out. Unable to procrastinate any longer, Sara forced out the words that would change Grissom's world forever.

"It's cancer."

Sara wasn't sure how Grissom would react to her news, but never in a million years would she have guessed that the first thing he would do was wrap her up in a bear hug. This man, who had done his best to keep his physical and emotional distance from for the past few years was holding her so tightly that she was now sitting in his lap. He was so close that not even a breath of air would be able to pass between them. His hand moved in slow circles on her back, comforting her in the same way one might comfort a small child.

To Sara's horror she felt a tear fall from her eye and trickle down her cheek. The first tear was followed by a second, and then a third. Now the tears were coming fast and hard, like a dam that had been released after the spring floods. For the first time since she had been diagnosed Sara was able to release the emotions inside. She hadn't cried after the doctor had told her, or after her first treatment. She hadn't even cried after the farewell party at work. But now, wrapped in the safety of Grissom's arms she let it all out.

When the tears subsided Sara finally looked up to Grissom, only to find that she was not the only one to have salt-water stained cheeks. Somehow she found it comforting. Pulling away from Grissom's embrace she reached out her hand to cup his cheek, gently wiping away the wetness with the pad of her thumb. Using the barest pressure she pulled him towards herself. Their lips met in a whisper of a kiss. It was not a kiss of romance or passion. Instead it was an offering of comfort. Who was comforting whom, neither could have said.

In another time and another place it might have turn into something else. Two people, attracted to each other for so many years, finally breaking through the invisible boundaries kept between them for so long. In this moment simply being together was enough. The simple contact feed their souls and helped to prepare them for the days ahead.

"I'm going to take a shower," Sara said as she stood up. It had been a long, emotion draining hour, following a hell of a day. She had told Grissom everything. All about the yearly physical that she had put off for months, finally going in during her suspension only because she was running out of things to do to fill her time. The mass the doctor had felt, and the additional testing he had insisted on. Sara blushed a little when she told him the diagnosis: ovarian cancer. As casually as they discussed sex and bodies at work, this was different. This was her.

Grissom also stood up from the couch. "I'll call Catherine."

For a moment Sara panicked. No way could the rest of the lab find out. She knew they would be supportive. At least, most of them would be. But there would also be questions, and whispers. Above all, there would be too much attention. She didn't want any of them to see her like this.

Grissom, usually so obtuse, seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

"I'm just going to let her know I won't be in tonight."

"You don't have to do that, Griss. I'm okay, now. Really."

"Sara, I want to be here. Unless you want me to go." He suddenly felt unsure of his welcome. For the past few hours he had been so wrapped up in Sara that it never occurred to him that he had, in all reality, barged into her apartment and her life.

"No, Griss. It's not that. I just don't want to make you miss work. I know how much I'd rather be there then here."

_This is where I want to be, _is what he thought. What he said was "Why don't you go take that shower? I'll go pick up some take-out and be back in a half hour. What are you in the mood for?"

Despite her protests, Sara was relieved to hear he wasn't leaving.

"I'm not really hungry. Pick up whatever you want."

"Sara, you have to eat." His words were scolding, but his voice was almost caressing.

"I know. I'll eat. Promise."

He was back, as promised, thirty minutes later. It was surprising he returned so quickly, because he carried in bags from three different restaurants. There was Thai food in white cartons, all of it meat free. Two Styrofoam container from the deli held soup, one garden tomato and the other spilt pea. The third bag he took directly into the kitchen, placing two different kinds of ice cream in the freezer and a slice of cheesecake in the fridge.

"I know you said you weren't hungry, but I figured hey, comfort food."

Sara stood in the doorway to the kitchen, one part of her marveling at the amazingly thoughtful gesture, the other part simply enjoying the sight of Grissom moving around her kitchen in his bare feet. It was like a dream she had once. Then she remembered why he was here. It was no dream.

They were both sitting on the couch again. Grissom had fixed them both plates of food, and they had sat at the table. He filled her in on the last weeks at the lab, staying away from the heavier cases. Instead he told her of the ten year old boy who had come in to report a kidnapped dog. Greg felt sorry for the boy, and insisted on helping to find it, in the process managing to fall in not one, but two mud puddles. After she had eaten as much as she was going to (though not really enough to satisfy him) they moved into the living room where they were now watching a movie.

Halfway into the movie Sara had leaned her head to the side, resting it on his shoulder. He in turn snaked his hand around her waist, pulling her to him. He reveled in the simple contact, needing to feel her skin against his own as proof that she was there, that she was all right. Or as all right as she could be, given the circumstances. Grissom was still having trouble comprehending all that he had learned. How different the world seemed just a few hours ago. Everything had been so normal, even if it had been a bit... empty. Despite everything, he couldn't regret the events of the day. Not that he wanted Sara to be sick. Sara in pain was a hard idea for him to deal with. But still, here he was. Sitting in the dark with a beautiful woman curled up against him. Not just any woman, but _his_ Sara. He had dreamt of moments like this, but never thought it would never happen. _Never thought he would allow it to happen, if he was totally honest with himself. _ A part of him knew that he could have had this before. Sara had asked. _Let's see what happens. _He had been the one to hold back. _Not now. _He silently promised himself that whatever she needed now, he would give to her.

The next night Grissom locked himself in his office until his hand cramped from signing his name. It had been weeks since he had spent any time on what he considered to be the most annoying part of his job. He preferred to be out in the field, but he was afraid that given yesterday's events, he wouldn't be able to give any case the attention it deserved.

"Goodnight, Gil."

"What?" Grissom looked up from his desk to find Catherine standing at the doorway to his office.

"Shift's over. I swear. Ever since Sara left, you have gotten more Grissomish."

"Grissomish? Catherine, what are you talking about." Grissom sighed inwardly, knowing from experience that she was not going to leave until she had her say. He never could decide whether her unsolicited advice was wanted or not. He knew it came from a place of friendship, but sometimes he longed to physically remove her from the office and lock the door behind her.

"I'm talking about you and your lack of people skills. You've become practically monosyllabic in the past weeks, and I swear I don't remember the last time I saw anything but a frown on your face."

"Catherine, I'm fine."

"Gil, your not. If you keep this up you'll be a total recluse by the time Sara comes back." She had held her tongue for the last three weeks, and that was no easy feat for her. But she was concerned about Grissom, both as a boss and a friend. "The boys and I are on our way out for breakfast. Come with us."

"Thanks, but I have plans." He didn't really, but hoped that he could stop by and see Sara.

"Really? New entomology text book to read."

"No. Shift is over. Don't you have somewhere to be?" Catherine turned to leave, but Grissom felt himself compelled to stop her. "Cath I... I know that I've been a little difficult lately. Thanks for... being concerned."

It was more then she expected to get from him. "It'll get better. Night Gil."

"Night Cath."

Once again he was alone in the office. He was just thinking of leaving, somewhat on time for a change, when the phone rang.

"Grissom."

"Hey Griss." Sara's voice was a little hoarse, as if she had just woken up. "Why am I not surprised your still at work."

"So speaks the woman who maxes out on overtime every month." His voice was teasing. It was funny how much lighter he felt, just hearing her voice.

"I was actually just thinking of leaving, getting some breakfast. How about I pick you up and we go get some together?" He hoped she said yes. Until Catherine had come by and he had said he had plans he hadn't realized how much he wanted to see her.

"No thanks."

"I understand." Understood, but was disappointed.

"No, it's not that. It's just..." Damn. She hated being weak, hated even more letting other people know of her weaknesses. "The first day or so after a treatment, I'm usually too tired to leave the house."

Relief filled him. It wasn't anything he did.

"Are you hungry? What if I came over, made breakfast. I can make a pretty mean omelet. Or if your in the mood for lunch I could grill some cheese sandwiches." For some reason he felt the need to feed her, make sure she ate enough. She was too thin. The body needed nutrients to fight of diseases.

"That would be nice."

Forty-five minutes later her was knocking at her door, grocery bag in hand. He had stopped at the market for the ingredients for both omelets and grilled cheese sandwiches, plus a supply of fresh fruits and vegetables. Vitamins were important, and better for the body if they came from food and not in the form of pills. He had spent hours on the internet after he left Sara the day before, researching anything and everything he could find. This was one thing he could do to help her.

Sara opened the door in sweat pants and an oversized LVPD shirt. Even knowing Grissom was coming over was not enough incentive to change out of the most comfortable clothes she owned. She had surprised herself when she had agreed to let Grissom come over. Until the words were out of her mouth she hadn't known that she was going to say yes. But the last three weeks of self imposed exile had been so lonely, even for an anti social person like herself. To have someone know her secret was a relief. For it to be Grissom was a comfort.

"How many people did you think you were feeding, Griss?" Each arm carried a paper bag, both appearing to be full.

"It's a little known fact, but I love to grocery shop. Almost as much as I like to cook for brunette smart mouthed woman." He headed straight to the kitchen and started riffling through her cabinets.

"So, how are you?" He tried to make the comment sound casual, but failed miserably.

Sara debated with herself before she answered. How much of the truth did she want to tell him, and how much did he really want to hear. Finally she decided to give him the unadulterated truth. She was too tired to do anything else.

"Pretty crappie. I slept most of the day, and now my muscles are sore from not moving. I was nauseous this morning, and I can tell you that I'm really ready to be done with the whole throwing up thing," Sara sighed. She settled in a chair at the counter and watched as Grissom sliced up vegetables. "I'm sorry for venting. I'm just so damn frustrated."

Grissom stopped what he was doing and reached for Sara's hand. "Hey, vent away. I don't mind, and if anyone deserves a good rant it's you."

It was amazing how a few words could make her feel better. Maybe she had been wrong in deciding not to tell anyone what was going on. Three weeks with no one but doctors and nurses to talk to had been harder then she thought it would be.

"So what do you like in your omelet?"

Grissom mentioned an article in the latest _Journal of Forensic Science _and they spent the next half hour debating different methods of DNA collection. It wasn't work, which they avoided by silent agreement, but it was common ground. For Sara it was the closest she had come to a normal evening in a long time, and that alone was such a blessing.

They were almost done with dinner when Grissom asked the question that had been plaguing him all day.

"Why didn't you tell anyone what was going on?" _Why didn't you tell me?_

"You're one to talk, Mr. I'm-going-deaf-but-I'm-not-going-to-tell-anyone." She hated herself as soon as she said it. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but the words seemed to come out on their own.

"God, I'm sorry Griss."

"No, it's only fair. Your right, I did the same thing. Maybe that's why I wish you had told someone. I remember how lonely it was, and I don't want to think of you going through that, especially when you don't have to." It was quite a speech, coming from him, but he had to make sure she knew that she didn't have to go through any of this alone.

"I know. I just, I'm used to handling everything on my own. It's been that way since I was little, and I have trouble sharing my problems. Plus, me barfing and loosing my hair, not really how I want people to see me." She tried to joke about it, but it fell flat.

He understood her isolation, had felt the same for most of his life. He didn't have to like it, though.

"I know Catherine and the boys would like to see you. They're your friends too, Sara."

"You can't tell them, Grissom. You have to give me your word that you won't say a word to any of them." There was a hint of panic in her voice.

"I won't. But I want you to promise me that if you need anything you will ask me. I want to be here for you."

"I will. That means a lot, and I appreciate it."

He pulled her into a hug to seal their bargain. When he pulled back he noticed how exhausted she looked.

"You look tired. I'll clean up the dishes and go, all right?"

She was tired, despite the fact she had only been awake for a few hours. "You don't have to do that. You cooked, I can clean up. Just leave them in the sink."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to argue with your boss? I'll wash the dishes and let myself out. Go to bed."

"Yes, sir," she snapped sarcastically.

As she turned at walked down the hallway he heard her mutter something that sounded suspiciously like a derogatory comment about his being boss.

"What's that, Sara?"

"I said goodnight Griss, and drive safe."

_Yeah, right._

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- Sorry for the shortness of the chapter. More to come soon. Thanks everyone for the reviews! They make my day so much brighter.

Chapter 3

He called the next morning after shift, and asked if he could come by. On the way to her apartment he stopped for Belgian waffles and fruit salad. So the pattern was established. Every morning when he got off work he would call her on the way to her home. If anyone noticed that he left work on time now, no one said anything. They were all too glad to see Grissom act more like normal. Sometimes when he arrived at Sara's he had a movie or a new forensic journal. Always he brought something to eat.

"What is this obsession you have with bringing me food?"

"What?" It had been almost three weeks of daily visits before she asked him about his habit.

"You. Food. Every time I turn around you are bringing groceries or cooking or talking me into going to a restaurant. Not that I don't appreciate it, ut's just... funny."

"I, uh... did some reading and... vitamins and calorie intake are import for... you know." He was worried about what she would think, hoped she wouldn't feel that he had overstepped his bounds. But he was a scientist, and his very nature compelled him to research and then but that knowledge to use. It was the way he dealt with work, and the habit spilled over into his personal life.

"You did research?"

He nodded.

"On cancer."

Again, a nod.

"And as a result you have decided that it is your job to feed me."

He couldn't tell if she was upset, so decided to answer as honestly as possible.

"It's something I can do, to help. I want to make this as... easy... as it can be."

Sara felt the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Never had someone gone to that much effort to help her. Despite her effort to hold them back, a lone tear managed to escape and make its way down her cheek.

"Oh, God, Sara. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Sara silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips. with her other hand she wiped away the tear.

"I'm not upset, I'm overwhelmed. That is the single sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Grissom, for the first time since he was a teenager, blushed.

Sara was nervous when he came over the next morning. She had a favor to ask of him.

"You know how you said I should tell you when I need something?"

"Anything." He looked at her expectantly, pleased that she was keeping her promise and asking for help.

"Tomorrow's my chemo, and considering last time I don't think that I can drive myself home. So I was wondering if..."

"I'll be there. Just let me know when."

"You don't have to stay. Just drop me off at ten, and if you could pick me up at noon."

"Do you want company?"

"You don't have to..." She looked down at the floor, suddenly interested in the color of the carpet. She didn't want him to see the myriad of emotions playing across her face.

Grissom reached out, and with two fingers under her chin lifted her head so that their eyes meet.

"Do you want company?"

Sara took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes."

Grissom glanced at his watch again, the third time in ten minutes. Shift had ended over an hour ago, but he was in the middle of a hot case and couldn't leave yet. He was in an interrogation room, just him, Brass, and a man they suspected of killing his wife. Despite the evidence piled up against him, the man refused to confess, and it was making Grissom antsy. He always felt a little on edge when waiting for that key moment when a suspect slipped up and made a mistake, usually in some small but vital way that he could use to make the whole lie come apart. Normally he enjoyed it, that extra bit of adrenaline fueling him, making his thinking sharper. This time he was having trouble focusing on the suspects story, and was glad that it was Brass asking the questions. He had thirty minutes before he had to leave and pick up Sara for her appointment. For the first time ever he seriously considered walking out of an interview. _Confess already, damn it._

He looked down at his watch again, then turned to the suspect just in time to catch it. The little lie. _Little lie, big lie._

"She left the party early, but I wanted to stay. So she took the car and I said i would get a ride, or call a cab."

Brass also recognized the lie, and had to smile just a little bit. Time to hang the bastard with his own words.

"So why is it that everyone else at the party remembers you leaving the same time as your wife?"

"I didn't. I mean, I left a few minutes latter. I, uh, met some buddies at a bar."

"Which buddies? What bar?"

And with that the interview was all but over. Ten minutes was all it took for him to sob out his tale. The argument, the fight, the push against the counter, and the blind panic when he realized that she wasn't breathing.

"Kills his wife and then just leave her for the housekeeper to discover. Do they get any scummier?" Brass asked the rhetorical question.

Grissom made some noncommittal reply as he started walking down the hallway, intent on getting his briefcase out of his office and leaving as quickly as possible. Brass noticed his hurry, and wondered at it. Grissom, in a hurry to leave work. That was a rarity.

"Got a hot date? he teased.

"What? Oh, no, I just... have some things I need to do."

That was suitably vague. Brass watched as his friend left, after a brief stop in his office. Come to think of it, Grissom hadn't been putting in much overtime at all the past few weeks. Something was most defiantly up with him. Oh, well. If he wanted anyone to know what was going on he would have said something.

Sara was quiet on the ride to the hospital. She had been feeling pretty good for the last week, and was not looking forward to the recurrence of the nausea and fatigue she knew to expect after the chemo treatment. Grissom left her to her silence, only glancing at her every few minutes as he drove his car along the too familiar route to Desert Palms. As he pulled into the parking garage he reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze before he turned off the engine.

Walking throughout the sterile white walls of the hallway, Grissom's hand found its way to the small of Sara's back. He applied no pressure, just rested it there gently lending her his strength. She felt the soft warmth that pooled there, and was grateful.

"You doing okay?" He knew she wasn't, and felt foolish as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"I'm trying to concentrate on the fact that after today I'll be halfway done with treatments." She tried to smile at him, but it came out more like a grimace.

They were ready for her almost as soon as she arrived. As she started to enter the office she turned to look at him.

"I won't be much company, but if you want to come in with me, you can." Her speech was casual, but there was a naked look of longing in her eyes as she waited for her reply. He said nothing, but simply followed her into the room, slipping his hand into hers.

He didn't know how it started, but somehow they fell into a conversation of 'do you remember.' It seemed to keep Sara distracted from the I.V. in her arm and the harsh chemicals dripping into her veins.

"Do you remember the first time we went for coffee in Boston? It was snowing so hard class was canceled the next day." Grissom smiled at the memory of the eager young Grad student who had asked him such insightful questions. The conversation at the coffee shop had lasted for hours. Might have gone on all night, if the cafe hadn't closed.

"I remember that the service was horrible. We waited for half an hour just to order, and by the time our drinks came they were cold."

"The company made it worth it, though." He said it without thinking, just one of those lines that seemed to slip out when he was around her.

"Do you remember that guy who thought he was all macho? Strutted around and told everyone that he was going to be a cop, and was just taking your class because it was an easy A. Then you showed those slides from the body farm."

"I'm just glad that he ran out of the lecture hall before he lost his lunch. He never did come back to class." Grissom's eyes twinkled at the thought.

Their conversation turned to more recent memories, as each tried to come up with the funniest thing that happened at the lab.

"Remember Greg dancing down the hall in the headdress?"

"Remember when you said that you left the Collins girl in the car with the windows cracked, and everyone believed you."

"How about Nicky, thinking a chopper dropped the scuba diver in the tree?" She laughter at the memory, and marveled at the fact that she _could_ laugh during chemotherapy.

"What about you, and the case where you thought the victim spontaneously combusted?" he teased.

"Hey, it's a possibility. So if the solution to a problem is not neat, plausible and wrong; then it could be messy, unlikely and right." She smirked at him, enjoying the opportunity to use his own quote against him.

It surprised Sara when the nurse came to remove the I.V. The two hours had gone by amazingly fast, considering where she was. Not only that, but she felt okay. Until she stood up, that is. A bout of light headedness made her stumble, and it was only Grissom's quick reflexes that stopped her before she fell.

"Thanks," she muttered.

They left the office after Sara confirmed her next appointment. Grissom kept his arm wrapped around her waist as they left the hospital. Someone might think they were simply lovers, out for a walk, if it wasn't for Sara's pale and sweaty skin, and the concerned look on Grissom's face.

He had driven half way to her apartment before she gave the urgent order for him to pull over. She had just enough time to get out of the car before emptying the contents of her stomach at the side of the road. Wave after wave came, until there was nothing left but dry heaves. Grissom helped her back to the car, and drove back to her apartment as quickly as he could.

She collapsed on the couch, shivering from cold and exhaustion. Grissom covered her with the blanket from the back of couch, but she still shook. He stooped down and picked her up, sitting down on the couch with Sara in his lap, the blanket covering the both of them. Clasping her to him, he slowly stroked her hair until the shivering stopped. Sara's eyes fluttered open, a moan escaping from her lips.

"It hurts, Griss. I can't do this anymore. It hurts so much." He could barely hear her, so quietly did she speak. The pain behind her words was evident. It was the defeat that mixed with the pain that scared him. She couldn't give up. He wouldn't let her.

"Shh... It'll get better. It had to. It's always darkest before the dawn." He wrapped both his arms firmly around her and rocked slowly back and forth. The panting of her breath slowed, turning into the deep even breaths that signaled sleep. He waited until he was sure that she was asleep before carrying her into the bedroom and laying her on the bed. He covered her with a quilt and kissed her on the forehead before he left.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Just a little hint of romance, for those of you longing for some Sara-Grissomness. But first, some drama (cause there hasn't been enough of that yet.) To all of you who write me such awesome reviews, thank you! You guys just make me so happy. Yeah me!

Chapter 4

"Sara, open the door." He knew that she was in the apartment, had seen movement when he first knocked on the door. Only that fact stopped him from panicking that she was unconscious on the floor. He was close to panic anyway. For five minutes he had been standing at her door, knocking and calling out to her. She refused to answer. In the five weeks he had been coming to see her she had never failed to open the door to him. Not even the day after her chemo, when it took all of her energy to walk from the couch to the door.

"Sara, I'm not leaving until I see you. I have to see that your okay. If you don't answer the door I'll have to call Brass and have him send a couple of uniforms over to break in."

She knew that he would do it. Grissom didn't make idle threat. As much as she didn't want to see anyone right now, she knew that she had to see him face to face before he would leave. So she compromised. She opened the door to him, but left the chain latched.

"There. You see me. Now go away." She knew that her tone was snippy, and he didn't deserve that.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not good company today. I'll see you tomorrow, maybe."

"What's wrong?" The apartment behind her was cloaked in darkness, curtains drawn against the bright Nevada sun. Sara was dressed in sweats, with a towel wrapped around her head. Grissom thought this was a little odd, since she didn't appear to have just gotten out of the shower.

"If you don't want company that's fine. Just let me come in for a minute and see for myself that your really okay."

Sara sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to just leave her alone. She closed the door to unhook the chain, and opened it to let him in.

He walked in and stopped in the entry way. Slowly he looked her over. Visually there didn't seem to be anything wrong.

"I'm fine. Really." Unconsciously she reached up to the towel, as if to make sure that it was still there. In that moment Grissom realized what was wrong He took a step closer to her, and reached out to caress her cheek.

"If you want me to leave, I will. But I have to tell you something first." He took a deep breath, knowing that he was about to cross a line that he had worked so hard to erect. Over the years there had been innuendoes and double entandras, but never had he openly told her how he felt about her.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I thought so when I saw you that first time in the lecture hall, and I still think so. Nothing could change that." With that he reached up and took off the towel. Her hair looked like it had been cut by a child, and there was a large bald patch in front. He ran his fingers through it.

"I, uh, got mad and unfortunately there was a pair of scissors within reach." In some ways it had been the worst part of the cancer this far. Brushing her hair this morning she had pulled back the brush to find a whole chunk of hair in the bristles. She had known it could happen, but hadn't been prepared. It was stupid and superficial. She had made it through the weakness and the nausea, the tiredness and aches. But seeing that clump of hair and knowing that more would come out was almost her undoing. she had reacted in anger, seizing the scissors and hacking at her hair until the longest pieces were no longer then her chin. If anyone was going to take away her hair, it was going to be her.

"Come on. Put on your shoes and come with me." Grissom threw the towel over the back of a chair and moved to the front door.

"No. Grissom, I'm not leaving the house." She crossed her arms and planted her feet.

"Sara, please. Trust me." He reached out for her hand. "You trust me, don't you?"

It was just the right thing to say. The only thing, perhaps, that would have worked

They drove for twenty minutes before parking in an alley behind a row of shops.

"Come on, there's someone I want you to meet." Grissom led her through a doorway and into a small back room. It was sparsely decorated, containing only a desk, chair, file cabinet and a mini fridge.

"Nora, are you here?"

Sara stood self consciously behind Grissom, wary of anyone seeing her looking like she did. Grissom stepped away from her, walking toward the curtain covered doorway that separated the main shop from the back room. Suddenly the curtain was pulled aside and a woman entered.

"Gil, darling, how good to see you. You don't come around often enough."

Sara almost laughed at the idea of calling Grissom 'darling,' but coming from this woman it seemed natural. Is was hard to tell how old Nora was, she could have been anywhere in her fifties or sixties. She was little, barely reaching Sara's shoulder. Her hair was a coppery red, obviously helped along by Miss Clairol, and she was clothed in a long flowing skirt and peasant blouse. Her hands fluttered as she talked.

"Dearest, do you bring me someone new to meet? I do so love meeting new people. Hello, my dear. I'm Nora." And with that she walked up to Sara and encased her in a hug. Sara was startled, to say the least, and even more so when Nora released her and turned to hug Grissom. If only she had a camera. Grissom, being hugged by this petite fairy of a woman was a sight she would love to share with the guys at the lab.

"Nora, this is my friend Sara. She is in need of your expertise."

"You came to the right place. Come with me dear heart."

Next thing she knew, Sara found herself in a barber's chair with Nora standing behind her. The thought of those thin fluttering hands holding scissors worried her at first, but it turned out that her hands were rock steady and confident as she snipped away at the remains of Sara's hair. Soon her hair was evenly styled in a short crop. Nora laid down the scissors and left momentarily, returning with a pair of styrofoam heads, each one supporting a wig.

"Now this wig here looks pretty close to your natural hair color. Sometimes that's good, but sometimes you want a change. Let's try some on."

Sara was reticent about the thought of wearing a wig, was sure everyone would be able to tell. It was a happy surprise, then, when Nora slipped the first wig over her shorn head and she found that the reflection in the mirror was almost like it had been yesterday, before her hair fell out. She turned to Nora, a smile on her face.

"You know, I've always wondered what I would look like as a blond."

Grissom entered the shop to a sound he hadn't heard in too long to remember... Sara was laughing. He had left her in Nora's capable hands, thinking that she might be more comfortable if he wasn't around while her hair was cut and Nora introduced her to wearing wigs. He had gone down the street to the bakery, and now returned with hot teas and pastries for the three of them. The drinks almost ended up on the floor when he walked in. Sara was standing in the middle of the shop, a purple mow hawk perched on top of her head.

Sara smiled at the look on Grissom's face.

"What do you think? Is it me? Can you picture the look on Nick's face if I walked into the lab like this?"

Grissom was beyond relieved to see Sara so happy. He hadn't been sure coming here would be a good idea, but it was the only thing he could think of. Seeing Sara earlier, so upset about her hair, he had known that he had to do something. Fortunately it hadn't backfired on him.

"So how do you know Nora? Sara was sitting in the passenger seat of Grissom's Tahoe, wearing a wig that was a close match to her natural hair in both color and style. In her lap was a bag of scarfs in many colors and patterns. Nora had taught her how to tie them around her head while explaining that wigs can get itchy when worn too long. They were best used for going out, or having company. The scarves were more comfortable.

"I helped send her to jail."

It was the last thing Sara expected to hear.

"What?"

"Twenty years ago, when I first came to Vegas I had a case involving a con artist and his accomplice."

"Nora's a con artist?"

"Was. She cleaned up after a three year prison term. She looked me up, after she got out. Thanked me for helping to set her straight. Opened her shop about ten years ago. I visit, once in a while. Nora's an interesting person."

"Yes, she is."

They had reached Sara's apartment, and this time Grissom did not have to ask to be invited in.

"Thanks, Griss, for everything. I don't know how I would have made it through today without you."

Grissom accepted her thanks with a simple 'your welcome' and quickly changed the subject, a little uncomfortable with her gratitude.

"So how about a movie. I brought _Swing Time _and _Maltese Falcon._" It turned out that both of them shared a passion for old movies, a discovery they had mode over breakfast one morning. Many hours had passed with the two of them on the couch, popcorn bowl between them and vintage Hollywood on the television.

"_Maltese Falcon,_" Sara decided. "I'll make the popcorn, you get the movie ready."

When she came back with the popcorn, Grissom noticed that she had removed the wig. His heart sped up just the slightest bit at the memory of Nora's words. _Wigs are for company, for work. _Sara didn't feel the need to wear the wig around him, and he found that very pleasing. He wasn't company, and here in her home he wasn't her boss either.

"When I was little, I used to want to be Humphrey Bogart. PI detective in one movie, master thief in another."

The credits to the movie were rolling. The part two hour had passed in comfortable silence, broken only for occasional comments about the movie or requests for more popcorn. Sara walked Grissom to the door. It was already afternoon, and if Grissom was going to get any sleep before shift started he needed to leave.

"You learn something new everyday. Although I can see you as Bogie. Strong silent man who saves the woman by soling mysteries using his keen intellect." She liked being able to tease him. It was an element that had been missing in their friendship for the past few years, and she was glad it was back.

"I learned something new today too."

"What's that?" Sara queried.

"Not only would you look beautiful with no hair, but I even find you attractive with purple spiky hair."

Sara didn't know how to react, but it didn't matter because she didn't get a chance to. In the next moment Grissom leaned down and gently kissed her lips. Just a simple touch, but to Sara it was something more. It was a kiss of promise, not for now but for the future. Someday, it whispered, there would be something more for them. More then friendship. More then 'this.'

Before Sara recovered Grissom was gone. But he would be back tomorrow. And for now, she had hope. Sara rubbed her index finger over her lip and smiled to herself. Hell, she had a kiss from Grissom and a new head of hair. For a day that started out in the toilet, it sure ended well. Better then she could have thought.

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Just in case we forgot that there are more people in the CSI world (gasp! doesn't CSI revolve around Sara and Grissom?) here we are back at the lab.

Chapter 5

Seven weeks. For seven weeks he had been able to hold it all together, working at the lab all night, spending much of his day with Sara before going home to sleep, waking up just in time to go to work. For seven weeks he had kept Sara's secret, even though he didn't agree with her reasoning. It was only a matter of time before something broke.

He was in the morgue when it happened. It was a domestic abuse case, the kind Sara would have gotten over involved in if she had been at work. This time the husband had gone too far. _He went too far the first time, _Sara's voice echoed in his head. The woman was covered in bruises, some from shortly before her death, others weeks old. The X-ray films hanging on the wall showed at least three prior fractures on her arm, as well as a broken tibia and multiple facial fractures. All evidence pointed to long term abuse.

"Fucking bastard. There isn't enough pain and suffering in the world, this guy felt like he had to add to it"

Al Robbins looked across the body to the man on the other side of the table. Never in his memory had he heard the night shift supervisor speak so heatedly, or use such language.

"Gil? Are you okay."

He hadn't realized that he had spoken his thought out loud, certainly hadn't meant to. Now Al was looking at him, concern obvious.

"I'm fine."

"Then I'd hate to see you when your not fine."

"I just hate cases like this." _Blame it on work. Work is safe._

"We all do, but unfortunately we get cases like this all too often. You, however, have been... preoccupied... for at least a couple of weeks now. What's going on?"

If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have said anything. Brass, Catherine, they were too close and he would have felt like he was betraying Sara to talk to them. But Doc Robbins, isolated in his morgue with only the bodies of the dead, seemed like a safe person to talk to. Someone he could trust not to add to the water cooler gossip. And suddenly he needed to talk to someone.

"I have this... friend. My friend was recently diagnosed with cancer. I only know about it because I found out by accident, but this person won't tell anyone else. I've been visiting everyday and I think, I hope, that I am helping. But it's hard, watching this person going through everything they're faced with. I want to do more. I want to... I don't know. I feel helpless." He carefully avoided even using gender in his story, not wanting to give away more then he had. Al had a pretty good idea of who they were talking about, though he desperately hoped that he was wrong.

"Why doesn't your friend tell other people what's happening?"

"My friend is a very... private person. Also a very independent person. Doesn't have any family, and has trouble letting other people in."

"Are we talking about Sara? Is this why she took the leave of absence?"

The slight widening of Grissom's eyes confirmed Al's suspicions before his words did. _Damn. _He didn't want to be right.

"God, Gil. I'm sorry. Is there anything that I can do? Who's her doctor?"

"Dr. Sheldon, out of Desert Palms." Grissom answered the simplest question, not sure what to say about the rest.

"He's a good man, top of his field." Privately Al resolved to call the doctor, make sure everything possible was being done. Being head coroner of Las Vegas carried some weight in the medical community, even if all his patents were dead. _Well, except that one guy._

"Thanks, Al. I know I don't have to ask, but..."

"I won't say a word. Neither will they." He motioned to the two draped bodies behind him. "Dead men tell no tales."

Together they turned back to the body before them, returning to the relative ease of work. When the examination was over and Grissom had left to meet Brass at the husband's house Al headed strait for the bookcase in his office, removing his worn copy of _The Physician's Desk Reference. _With one hand he leafed through the pages until he reached the chapters on oncology, with the other he picked up the phone. Looking up from the book only long enough to dial, he skimmed through the first chapter.

"Yes, hello. I'd like to speak to Dr. Sheldon regarding a patient of his. Yes, I'll hold."

Doc Robbins wasn't the only one who was concerned about Grissom. The whole night shift team had noticed that something was different. One morning after shift, Catherine finally decided to broach the subject. They were all having breakfast at the diner. Well, all but Grissom.

"So, am I the only one who thinks that Grissom has been acting weird lately?"

"What do you mean?" Still getting use to being a full member of the team, Greg cautiously questioned before agreeing to anything.

"Well, there's overtime for one thing."

"What overtime?" Nick questioned this time.

"That's my point. Griss had barely logged in any overtime this month. If that's not weird, I don't know what is"

"Especially since he was maxing out after Sara left. Even more then usual." Warrick pointed out.

"And is it just me, or is he more absent minded then usual? Last week he scheduled me to work on a day that I had to be in court. He's never done that before." Nick was perplexed.

"If it were anyone else, I'd say they had a girlfriend." Greg meant it as a joke, but everyone looked at each other in speculation. Was it possible? He did seem pretty eager to leave the lab when his shift was over. Didn't usually come in until an hour before shift started. And the paper work was piling up on his desk at an alarming rate. That, at least, was normal. He had to be doing something with all that free time, away from work. A girlfriend?

"No, that's just too... weird." Nick tried to picture Grissom with a girlfriend. The only person he could remotely see her with was maybe Sara, and they all knew that wasn't possible.

"Plus, if he was seeing someone, don't you think he'd be happier?" Warrick pointed out.

"True," added Catherine. "He's not as grouchy as he was, but not happy either. He is definitely not having sex."

"You guys talking about me?" Brass pulled up a chair. "Cause the last time I..."

"You can stop right there, Brass. We don't want to know."

"Now Cath, I'm hurt." He mimicked a pained expression, to which Catherine responded by rolling her eyes. "So if we're not talking about me, who are we talking about?"

"Grissom."

"You know, speaking of Grissom; does anyone think the guy is acting a little weird lately?" His confused expression was not faked this time when everyone at the table burst into laughter.

Unaware that his love life, or lack there of, was being discussed just blocks away, Grissom left the lab and headed out to the parking lot. He contemplated calling Sara and letting her know that he couldn't come over, but decided against it. Just yesterday he had left her with a kiss, and he was afraid that if he didn't come over today his absence might get misinterpreted. There had been enough crossed wires between them in the past.

He stopped by his townhouse first, to shower and change clothes. Usually he went directly to Sara's from the lab, but today's case left him feeling dirty. Even though there wasn't really anything there, he scrubbed at his skin until the combination of heat and friction turned it pink. If he had been staying at home he might have indulged in a scotch to further aid in forgetting the past shift.

An hour after he left the lab he arrived at Sara's apartment. She answered the door, head wrapped in a deep blue and purple scarf.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look so hot." Sara took in the dark circles under his blood shot eyes, the stooped shoulders, and the yawn that he was valiantly trying to hide. "I have an excuse for looking bad. What's yours?"

"You don't look bad," he remarked automatically.

"Thanks, but that wasn't me fishing for a complement. That was me trying to surreptitiously ask you why you look so tired." She walked into the kitchen and returned with a cup of coffee in 'his' mug.

"Just a long shift," he answered evasively. "So how are you today? Are you up to going out, catching a movie or something?

"I might be, but your not. You know, Griss, you don't have to come over here every day." He started to protest, but she silenced him with an upraised hand. "Don't get me wrong, I love having you here. I honestly don't know if I could have made it this far without you, but you are spending everything on taking care of me. You have to take care of yourself too." She was worried about him, and afraid that she was being selfish in letting him do so much for her.

"I'm fine, really. Nothing a couple hours of relaxing won't take care of. I'm just in need of a diversion."

_You need to find a diversion. _ Years ago the words had sounded like a criticism. Today they sounded like a challenge.

"In that case, what do you say to a game of Scrabble. I'm feeling particularly verbal today. I'll bet you I beat you. What do you say? Loser makes dinner tonight." She tried to lighten his mood, hoping to remove some of the weight metaphorically resting on his shoulders. "I promise that even if by some miracle you do win I won't force you to eat the tiles."

Grissom smiled for the first time that day, at her reference to the bizarre case they worked together last year.

"Someone thinks highly of themselves. It's a bet."

Sara went to get the game out of the closet, pleased with her success in getting a smile from Grissom.

"Prepare to lose, Bugman."

In the end they called it a tie, and had a pizza delivered; half tomato bell pepper, half pepperoni and sausage. Grissom had the night off, so after they ate they settled down on the couch with a copy of _Casablanca._ Fifteen minutes into the movie and Grissom was sound asleep. Sara curled up against him and covered them both with a quilt. Before the movie was over she had joined him in dreamland.

Sun streaming through the window wake Grissom. For a moment he forgot where he was, and why he was sleeping sitting up. Then he felt the tingling in his leg signaling that it had fallen asleep, and looked down to see Sara, her head pillowed on his thigh. She looked so peaceful, buried under the blanket, face framed by wispy curls. The scarf had come off sometime during their spirited Scrabble game.

He was tempted to stroke her hair, curious to know what her hair felt like. Was it as soft as it look? Only the fear that he would wake her up stayed his hand. She needed her sleep. Selfishly he had to admit that he had another motive. If she woke up he wouldn't be able to enjoy the feeling of her, curled up against his side. It was a pleasant sensation, definitely something he could get used to. Something he hoped that he might get a chance to get used to. If everything went well. _No_. He wouldn't let himself think about it like that. Everything would be fine. There was no other possibility.

Sara was hyper aware of two things when she woke up. Unlike most mornings she was toasty warm, and her pillow was much too firm to be made out of feathers.

"Good morning."

She opened her eyes to find Grissom watching her. It was then that she realized that it was his leg she was resting on, his body heat coursing through her. Sara sat up self consciously, keeping the blanket wrapped around her.

"Good morning to you too." It was an awkward moment in a relationship that had already been filled with so many. What do you say to your boss, who has become your best friend, when you fall asleep literally on top of him. Sara decided to avoid the issue.

"So, how about some breakfast?"

Grissom paused in the middle of pouring pancake batter, stuck by the sight before him. Sara sat perched on on of the bar stools, pouring two glasses of orange juice and setting them next two two plates. She was dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top. She hadn't bothered putting on a scarf. It was nothing special, and that is what caught his attention. The two of them, going about their established routine, were perfectly in sync. Just being together was enough to make Grissom feel happy. Life was good.

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

So I was thinking... gosh there just hasn't been enough drama. What this story really needs is some more pain and suffering. So here we are. I'll apologize now for the medical inaccuracies (I think I mentioned my lack of medical knowledge earlier. I hope the mistakes aren't blaring.) Thank you to everyone who keeps sending me the awesome reviews. I adore them all, and the fact that I got reviewed by Teenwitch and Jillyree, both who write such fabulous fanfic, leaves me speechless (but fortunately I retained the ability to type.)

Chapter 6

He almost didn't answer the phone when it rang. He and Nick were at the home of a missing person who happened to be related to the mayor. Every hour for the entire shift the sheriff had called, pestering him for updates on the case, so the urge to ignore the ringing was strong. Fortunately he answered anyway.

"Grissom." He knew the irritation was clear in his voice, but he didn't care.

"Griss." The voice was so soft it was barely a whisper, but he recognized her immediately.

"Sara?" Nick looked over at the sound of her name. So far as he knew Sara hadn't talked to anyone at CSI in the almost three months since she left.

"Sara, what's wrong?" He wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear muffled sobs coming from the other end of the call. "Are you at home? I'm coming over right now." Her lack of response was starting to scare him. He turned away from Nick and started to pack up his kit with one hand while still holding his phone in the other.

"The ambulance is already on its way." Her words made him freeze. _ Ambulance. Oh God. _Forget packing his kit. As soon as Grissom regained the ability to move he left the room and headed out of the house, a stunned Nick standing in his wake.

"Griss, I'm... oh, shit. I'm scared. I don't know what to do."

Grissom could hear the panic in her voice, and it broke his heart. Pulling out of the residential street and onto the main street he did something he had never done before. He reached down and turned on the red and blue flashing lights his Tahoe was equipped with.

"Sara, honey, it'll be okay. Paramedics are on the way, and I'll meet you at the hospital. Probably beat you there." He was surprised at how calm he was able to keep his voice. "Can you tell me what happened."

"I was taking a nap. You know how tired I get sometimes. I got this cramp in my stomach, strong enough that it woke me up. It went away after a few minutes, but then it came back, worse then before. Oh shit, it hurts. I can't catch my breath." Sara was gasping, no longer able to talk. It was hard enough just getting enough air to breath.

"It's okay, honey. Just listen to my voice. Breath in slowly. Count to three. Breath again. Close your eyes. Think about something you like. Watching movies, solving a hard case, beating me in Scrabble." Her breathing slowed a little as he talked to her. He continued talking in a slow soothing voice until he heard the muffled pounding of someone at Sara's door.

"Answer the door. I'll be at the hospital waiting." _I love you, _he wanted to say, but she had already hung up the phone.

Sara winced as she pulled herself up from the couch and shuffled to the door. She had to stop halfway there as another wave of pain overwhelmed her. Finally she reached the door and pulled it open, only to faint before she could say anything.

Grissom did indeed beat the ambulance to the hospital. He was waiting just inside the sliding doors when it pulled up, sirens blazing. Two paramedics jumped out of the back wheeling a stretcher between them. _Sara. _She looked so pale. Grissom ran alongside as they entered the hospital. He was barely able to grasp her hand a squeeze it before he was pushed aside by the swarm of medical personnel he desperately hoped would be able to help her. Briefly one of the nurses turned from her duties and directed him to the waiting room.

"Someone will be out when there's something to tell."

Grissom waited patently for thirty minutes. Or at least as patiently as he was able to. He was the only person in the lounge, and took advantage of the fact to pace the entire length of the room repeatedly. As he walked his hands constantly clenched and unclenched. Waiting was something he was long used to. Waiting for lab results, for clues, for a suspect to confess. He was not used to this lack of activity. Every atom he possessed was screaming to _do _something.

He accosted the first uniformed person to walk into the room.

"Sara Siddle. What can you tell me? How is she?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not familiar with that case. Let me find out for you."

In an instant she was gone, and it was a full twenty minutes before she returned.

"Miss. Siddle has been taken up to surgery."

"What's wrong? What kind of surgery." Grissom sat down fast. It was only luck that there happened to be a chair behind him.

"Are you her next of kin?"

"If I say yes will you tell me what's going on?" If he had been thinking clearer he might have been able to come up with a plausible lie. _I'm her cousin, her uncle... her husband. _"I'm her friend, and her boss."

"I'm sorry. I'm only allowed to give information regarding patients to their family and their doctors." Grissom reached for his cell phone as she turned to leave. She noticed his movement, and pointed to a small sigh posted on the wall._ '_No cell phone use inside the hospital.' He repocketed the phone and headed to the bank of pay phones in the corner of room. Thirty-five cents later he was listening to ringing.

"Las Vegas morgue, David speaking."

"David, is Al there?"

"Dr. Grissom?"

"Is he there?" He knew he was terse, but couldn't spare the energy to care.

"Yes, sir." A moment latter the phone changed hands.

"Robbins here."

"Al, I need your help."

"What's up? I thought you were working a missing person. Not much call for my services... unless the missing turn up dead?" His voice was light, and Grissom felt faintly relieved. The news of his leaving the crime scene the way he did hadn't made it to the lab yet.

"It's Sara." Two words, but they changed Doc Robbins's demeanor in an instant.

"What do you need?"

"I'm at the hospital. Sara's in surgery, but they won't tell me what for. I'm not family. They'll talk to her doctor, though, and I thought..."

"I'll be right there."

Grissom leaned back in the chair, relief seeping through him.

"Thanks. We're at Desert Palms."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Grissom was staring into a paper cup filled with coffee he didn't really want when a voice caught his attention. Demanded it, rather.

"What the hell is going on, Gil. You've been acting weird for weeks, and now you leave a crime scene in the middle of a case." Catherine strode into the room, full of riotous indignation. She had been astonished when Nick had returned earlier to report that Grissom had left the scene after a phone call, not even stopping to explain anything. She had been bewildered when she had walked into the morgue thirty minutes ago to catch the tale end of a conversation obviously not meant to be heard. During the twenty minute drive to the hospital (which followed the five minute 'discussion' with Dr. Robbins on why it would be easier to just tell her what the phone call was about) she had worked her way up to righteous indignation. She knew that Grissom was a private person, but she thought that they were friends. What could possibly be going on that had to be such a secret?

She was prepared to yell, lecture, and in general raise hell. All of her plans fell through once she got a good look at Grissom.

"Oh, Gil. I'm sorry. What's wrong?" She sat down in the chair next to him and reached out to wrap and arm around his shoulder in a kind of awkward hug. It was an alien gesture, and she never would have done it except that the expression he gave her was a mix of fear and melancholy. He looked like a lost child, and the mother in her reacted.

"Catherine?" He shook his head as if awakening from a dream, aware for the first time that she was actually there. "What are you doing here?"

He looked around the room, still empty except for the two of them.

"Where's Doc Robbins? I called him. He should be here"

Grissom look almost panicked as he looked around him, scanning the length of the room again and again as if the elusive physician was hiding in a corner. Catherine grew even more concerned as she witnessed her friend's unusual behavior. He was not always the unemotional man she and others had accused him of being in the past. She had seen him excited, seen him angry. But never had she observed the unchecked emotion that was playing across his face now. Fear, despair, worry, and frustration flickered in his eyes.

"Robbins went over to the desk to talk to another doctor. Grissom, what's going on? Why are you at the hospital?" She lowered her hand from his shoulder as she spoke, wrapping it instead around his forearm. She tugged at the fabric of his sleeve to get his attention. "Griss?"

"I can't say anything. I made a promise."

Before Catherine could ask anymore questions a familiar figure limped into the room. Grissom rose from his chair to meet Robbins in the middle of the room.

"Al, you have to tell me. What's going on?"

"You already know that she's in surgery." Grissom nodded. Catherine looked at him in confusion. _Who's in surgery? _All she had been able to get out of the doctor on their ride over was that Grissom needed his medical expertise, and mo, it didn't pertain to an active case.

"The doctors found internal bleeding, probably caused by a tear in the uterine wall. They should be able to repair it. Gil, they had to do an emergency hysterectomy. I don't know how much she's talked to you about any of this, don't know if it's an issue for Sara, but it couldn't be avoided."

Grissom turned at the soft gasp uttered beside him.

"Sara?" Catherine asked. It never crossed her mind until Robbins said her name that Sara could be a factor in whatever was going on. "Sara's in surgery? Sara's here, in Vegas?"

Catherine looked to her friend for an explanation. Her eyes widened in shock when, instead of answering her, he silently collapsed to the ground.

To be continued... (oh, I'm so mean.)


	7. Chapter 7

Sprogy, you crack me up!

Chapter 7

A blinding pain woke him up. People were shouting at him, and he wanted to explain to them that he couldn't do whatever it was they wanted. He was too busy waiting for his head to explode. New waves of pain shot through his head as he opened his eyes. What was he doing on the floor?

"Gil? Gil, are you okay?"

Hearing Catherine's voice brought it all back. The phone call, Sara, the frustration, calling Al, Catherine's arrival. He remembered Al's report on Sara's condition, and how hard he tried to focus on the words while ignoring the migraine increasing in magnitude. The last time he had passed out from a migraine had been back in college. Normally he would have taken his pills at the first sign of a migraine. The pills, while wonderful for taking away the pain, had a side effect of making him drowsy and made focusing difficult. He decided not to take them, even though he had an emergency dose in the glove compartment of his truck.

"I'm fine." He winced at the light, bringing up his hand to shade his eyes.

"You know, Gil, you might need to buy a new dictionary. Your definition of fine and mine are very different." Catherine leaned down to help him stand up enough to get into a chair.

"Here. Take these." Robbins stood before him, a glass of water in one hand and a paper cup with three small pills inside in the other. "They're just ibuprofen. I assume you won't take anything stronger."

Grissom gratefully took the medicine.

"Treating a migraine with aspirin is like trying to cut down a tree with a butter knife. Let me know if you decide you want something stronger."

"This will be good." The pain filling his head and shooting down his arm, and the lights flashing before his eyes directly contradicted his words, but no one else had to know that.

Catherine bit her tongue, trying hard not to contradict his words. She had so many things to say to him, but knew her questions would have to wait just a little longer.

"When's the last time you ate? Do you want me to go get you something?"

"I'm not hungry." Grissom sat slumped in the waiting room chair, eyes closed and fingers pressed to his temples.

"You were at the scene all night, so I know it has been hours since you ate. I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get you something. If nothing else, you know that you need the fuel, if you are going to be here for Sara." She stumbled over the last word. It still seemed strange to imagine that Sara was here in the hospital. It did answer many of her questions about the changes in Grissom's behavior, if he had known what was going on from the beginning. She suspected that he had. What the hell_ was _going on?

Doc Robbins stayed in the waiting room to keep an eye on Grissom while Catherine went in search of sustenance. She checked her pager, not surprised to see messages from Nick, Warrick, Greg, Brass and, unfortunately, the sheriff. They could all wait a little longer, she decided. First she needed some answers. She needed to talk to Grissom, and warn him before she called in the gang. They would come as soon as they heard, of that there was no question.

The cafeteria was not open, which was understandable since it was not quite six in the morning. Night shift wasn't even over yet, something she was sure the sheriff would mention when she talked to him latter. For three members of the shift to disappear had surly been noticed. There would be some explaining to do. Catherine found a vending machine, and after emptying her pockets of change she returned to the lounge.

"Here, eat this." She handed him a package of peanut butter crackers and an apple. For Al and herself she had cups of coffee, for Grissom a bottle of water.

"Grissom, I know it's hard, but I need you to tell me about Sara. There are calls that need to be made. I can do that, but I need to know what to say. The sheriff has been calling."

"Screw the sheriff," he spat out as he unwrapped the crackers.

Catherine sighed. Now was not the time for a discussion about politics, but just avoiding the issue wasn't going to make it go away. Well, they'd have to table that conversation for later.

"Okay. But can you tell me about Sara?"

Grissom opened his eyes and looked at his friend. His promise to Sara warred with his promise to himself. He needed to do what was best for her, and he wasn't sure keeping her condition a secret was the best thing now. She would need support when she got out of surgery, and as much as he would be there for her, he knew he couldn't do everything. Selfishly, he admitted to himself, he needed support too.

"I accidentally ran into Sara at the hospital a few weeks after she left the lab. She didn't leave Las Vegas, but told everyone that she did because she didn't want us to learn the truth." He stopped there, and uncapped his water bottle. He gulped down half the contents before putting the lid back on. Catherine watched him patiently, long experienced with Grissom's need to think before speaking, especially about difficult topics.

"I insisted on taking her home," he continued, not mentioning the fact that she had been too week at the time to protest. "The day before she turned in her leave of absence she had gone to the doctor for some test results. The diagnosis was cancer."

Catherine was speechless. Sarah, cancer? How could she not tell them? Didn't she understand that they were friends and would have helped her? But then, it sounded just like her, to cope with it all on her own. She looked over to Al Robbins. It was clear that Grissom's relegation was not a surprise to him. She wasn't sure if she was Seuss that he had confided in someone else, or relieved that he at least had someone to talk to.

"What can I do to help?"

Grissom was grateful for her support. It had been hard, the last few months, to see her at work and not say anything. Just the knowledge that he no longer had to restrain his words around her eased some of the tension in his head. Either that or the ibuprofen was starting to take effect.

"I don't know."

Grissom was asleep on the couch in the corner of the room. They had moved from the waiting room on the first floor to a smaller one on the third room. It was closer to the OR, and more private then the main room. Catherine had cajoled and Robbins had lectured, until the combination had been enough to convince Grissom to lay down. He hadn't given in until the both of them had promised that they would wake him the moment there was any news on Sara. It would probably be a couple of hours, though.

Once he was settled both Catherine and Robbins headed for the phones. Robbins checked in with the morgue and then called his wife to let her know that he would be late coming home. Catherine called home, and then dialed Warrick's cell phone.

"War, it's Catherine."

"Cath, finally. I've been paging you for over an hour. Where are you?" He was worried. First Grissom leaves a crime scene, then Catherine disappears. Even Doc Robbins had left the lab, which was weird because he was rarely out of his domain during shift hours.

"I'm at Desert Palms. I need you to make sure that anything that didn't get done this shift is farmed out to days. I won't be back today, and neither will Grissom."

He was filled with dread. Ducking out before the shift ended to go to the hospital? No way was that a good sign.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't get into it over the phone. If you want to come here after shift I'll explain everything then." She fervently hoped he would. "Oh and Warrick, try to avoid Eckley and the Sheriff."

Warrick stared at the phone ring after she hung up. Yeah, like he was going to wait another hour before finding out what was going on.

"Nick, Greg, grab your gear. We're out of here."

They ran into Brass in the parking lot, and together the four of them drove to the hospital. It was a quiet ride, and thanks to Warrick's heavy foot it was a quick on.

Warrick hadn't thought to ask Catherine where in the hospital she was. They checked the main waiting room. There were a few people sitting in chairs, but none that concerned them. Brass cut to the chaise, demanding the attention of a passing doctor. He flashed his badge, not feeling at all guilty about using it to his advantage.

"I'm looking for a couple of people. A man, about fifty, salt and pepper hair, and a woman, five foot five, strawberry blond hair. There might have been another man with them, walking with the aid of a cane. Have you seen them?"

The doctor looked at Brass's badge, then back to his face. "Are they in some kind of trouble?"

"No." _I hope not. _"They're coworkers."

"They were here earlier. They went up to the third floor. Miss. Sidle should be out of surgery in another hour or so."

"Wait, what?"

"Who?"

"Who should be out of surgery?"

"Sara?"

They all spoke at the same time, they're shock and concern obvious. The ER doctor winced, wondering if he should have said anything. The four people before him were apparently more then just coworkers. It was not really his place to say anything about patients, but the homicide captain's badge had thrown him.

"Take the elevator to the third floor. Walk straight ahead. Waiting room is the third door to your right." He turned and left the room, eager to escape from the intense looks focused on him.

Left alone the four men stared at each other.

"He did say Sidle, didn't he?" Brass questioned the three criminalists, hoping that he was the victim of sudden (albeit temporary) auditory hallucinations.

"That would explain why Grissom said 'Sara' when he answered the phone earlier." Nick mentioned the fact, which he had left out of his story earlier.

"What is Sara doing back in Vegas?" Greg wondered out loud.

"I'm more concerned about why she's in surgery." Warrick a little too harshly.

Greg looked hurt at his biting tone. "Of course. So am I."

"Only one way to find out, children." Brass lead the way to the elevator.

Catherine and Doc Robbins were quietly talking in the corner of the room when the four men found them. Sitting silently next to Robbins was a woman in her fifties, who was soon introduced as being his wife. Grissom was still asleep on the couch. They were the only people in the room.

"You all having a party, and forgot to invite us?" Brass attempted to begin what he figured was going to be a hard conversation with his usually dry humor. "The way people kept leaving during the middle of shift, I was feeling left out."

Catherine rolled her eyes, but secretly she was glad to see the weathered homicide captain, not to mention the three CSIs that walked in behind him. She smiled at them, but put her finger up to her lips in warning.

"Grissom's asleep. Migraine."

They all pulled up chairs, creating a haphazard circle in the corner of the room farthest from Grissom's couch. Warrick was the first to speak.

"Doctor downstairs said something about Sara being in surgery. What's going on?"

In whispered conference Catherine told the new arrivals everything she had been able to learn, deferring to Doc Robbins for the more technical questions.

"Damn," Nick exclaimed when the whole story was out.

He might have said more, but at that moment a scrub garbed doctor entered the room.

"Miss. Sidle made it through the surgery with flying colors. She's being moved to a room as I speak."

There was an audible sigh from everyone in the room.

"When can we see her?" Greg was the first to inquire.

"She's asleep now, will be for at least a few hours. You can each see her for a few minutes after she gets settled. She should be able to have regular visits tomorrow."

When the doctor left the room Catherine rose from her chair to awaken Grissom. Gently she shook his arm.

"Grissom, wake up. Sara's out of surgery."

"Sara?" he repeated, slightly confused after being pulled out of sleep.

"Is she all right?" He sat up. Blinking, he looked around the room, noticing for the first time that there were quite a few more people then there had been earlier.

"What are you all doing here?"

"Sara's made it through the surgery fine. And we're here because we're family. And this is what family's for." Nick answered for the group, who nodded their heads in agreement.

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Jbr12476, AmbientFlames, LostNovember, you guys humble and amaze me. I was blown away when Spogy told me my story was talked about on YTDAW. Thank you. Also, to clarify something mentioned in my reviews: I do **not **hate Sara. I love her. If I could be a character on the show I would **be** Sara (hey, we already have the same name.) It's just that I love angst, and pain, and tears too.

And now, as promised, we return to the hospital.

Chapter 8

There had been no question that Grissom would be the first one to go in and see Sara. Twenty minutes after the doctor left a nurse entered the waiting room. She lead Grissom down the hallway. Standing outside the door she turned to him.

"Five minutes only, sir. Regular visiting hours begin tomorrow at ten." With that she was gone.

He slowly opened the door and silently walked into the darkened room. Upon seeing Sara a thousand clichés filled his mind. Still as death. Childlike innocence. _Sleeping Beauty. _As he approached her bed he reached out and ran the pads of his fingers along the side of her face, pausing when he reached her lips. Holding completely still he waited until he felt the whisper of her breath against his fingertips, needing that physical proof of her continued existence. Once... twice... three times he felt the soft air brush against him like the touch of a butterfly's wing. Only when he was assured of her continued breathing did he sit down in the chair provided for visitors. As he sat his hand moved from her lips to her shoulder, and then down her arm until he reached her hand. He wrapped his hand around hers.

"Hey, Sara. It's me. I told you that I would meet you here. Don't get mad at me, but the rest of the team is here too. I didn't call them, but you know Catherine and the guys. Hard to keep a secret from them." He half expected her to wake up right then, and yell at him. He hoped she would. Anything would be better then the unnatural stillness that pervaded the room.

"You scared me, Sara. You can't do that to me. I'm just starting to figure out what to do about 'this.' About us." He wanted to say more. Needed to tell her more, but the words wouldn't come. So he sat in silence, holding her hand, and stared at her. If she could have been healed by shear force of thought alone she would be walking out of that room by now. Minutes passed, the sound of two breaths mingling reverberating through the room.

Grissom finally left the room after fifteen minutes, not wanting to press his luck any farther. He counted himself fortunate that no one had kicked him out for staying three times longer then he was supposed to. Nick was leaning against the wall outside the room when Grissom exited. They nodded to each other as the younger man passed the older in the barren hallway.

There had been no discussion in the waiting room. By unspoken agreement Nick had simply left the room after ten minutes, everyone understanding that he would be the next one to visit Sara. He stood now at the end of the hospital bed, arms crossed. He didn't know what to say, but then Sara released a small moan. Suddenly he was able to speak.

"I am so damn mad at you, Sara. How could you do this? You send a couple of e-mails, pretend everything's fine, when really your going through all of this. I should have known something was wrong. Sara Sidle, the world's biggest workaholic, randomly decides to take six months off. It should have made warning bells go off." He was pacing now, an activity drastically restricted by the size of the room. Four steps in each direction, and he spun around to repeat the motion.

"Why, Sara? Why didn't you tell us. We would have been there for you. God damn it! This isn't right." He collapsed in the chair, anger spent. He regretted his words now, and was grateful for the first time that Sara wasn't awake. Now that the first wave of emotion had passed he was able to take in his surroundings. The sight before him filled him with dread. The Sara laying in the hospital bed was not the Sara that he knew. Her head was almost completely bald, a fine layer of brown fuzz the only hair. Her skin was so pale that the blue veins underneath were clearly visible. Another moan escaped from her lips. _Damn._

Catherine stood in doorway of the hospital room, watching the two occupants of the room before her. There were times when she had seen the two of them, standing side by side looking over evidence, and think to herself that they looked like brother and sister. They certainly teased each other in the way siblings were wont to do. Today the resemblance was completely absent. Nick's healthful glow was in sharp contrast to Sara's pale sickness. Catherine blinked rapidly to push back the tears gathering in her eyes. She coughed, and Nick turned around. He gave her a forced half smile as he stood up.

"I'm going to... yeah. I'll be out there." He swiftly left the room.

Catherine took her place in the vacated chair.

"Hey, Sara. I'm going to keep this brief, because your nurse out there looks like she used to work in a prison, and when she said five minutes I think she really meant it. Grissom stayed longer, as you know, and she looked like she was about to physically remove him. Maybe ban him from coming back. Not that it would have mattered. There is no force on this earth capable of keeping that man away from you. Do you know he left a crime scene tonight to come here? First time since I've known him that he's done that. Nick said he didn't even stop to pick up hiss kit. We all know about Grissom and work, so you know right there how important you are."

As she spoke Catherine noticed how dry Sara's lips were. She rummaged through her purse until she found the Vaseline lip balm she kept in there for Lindsey. Using her index finger she spread some balm across the chapped lips.

"There, that's better. What was I saying. Oh, yeah. Grissom. He cares for you, girl. I've always known that, since the first he mentioned you. A friend, he called you. Someone he could trust. Big words, coming from him. I didn't realize until today just how much he really cares for you. The look he gave me when he said your name. Wow. It's love, pure and simple."

She marveled at the idea of Grissom in love. It wasn't something she had expected to see. He seemed to have settled into the role of work-obsessive-confirmed-bachlor. Despite everything that was going on, she was happy for him. Happy that her friend had at last raised his head out of the microscope.

"I'm going to make you a deal, Sara. I'm going to watch out for Grissom for you. Just for a little while, until your feeling better. He needs someone to look out for him. I know he thinks that he's self sufficient, but we know better. He needs someone around to remind him that there is more to life then work, bugs, and roller coasters. So I'll watch over him for now. Make sure he eats and rests. And then I'll entrust him to you. The two of you, your meant to be. Corny, I know. But he needs you. You should see him right now, Sara. I've never seen him look lost before."

She rose from the chair after glancing at her watch to confirm that her time was up.

"I'm going to take Gil home now, to make sure he sleeps. I'll bring him back to see you in the morning."

Greg was sitting in the chair now. He was wringing his hands together and tapping his feet rapidly on the tile floor His eyes fluttered around the room, never settling on one thing for too long.

"So, I was hoping you were taking this time to go on a vacation. The tropics, or maybe backpacking through Europe. I could see you, taking the train from country to country, visiting all those historical places. Do you think there is still blood splatter in the Tower of London? That would be cool. This is not what I would call a vacation. For one thing, the food here is horrible. I remember it all too well. That week I was here, I swear I would have starved if it weren't for Warrick and Nick sneaking me in hamburgers. Oops, I guess that wouldn't be good for you. We'll have to sneak you in something else. Salad, maybe? Or pasta. Papa Olaf always made pasta alfredo when we weren't feeling well."

Greg know that he was rambling, but couldn't help himself. The silence of the room was daunting, and felt the need to fill it. The hospital staff was lucky there was no boombox in the room, or he might have been tempted to blast his Sublime CD.

"You just let me know what you want to eat and I'll bring it. How about some chocolate? Everyone likes chocolate. I heard Jacqui talking in the lab the other day, saying that she thought that chocolate is better then sex. I don't think so. Speaking of sex, is there something between you and Grissom? I don't mean... I, uh, didn't mean sex. I just... he looks way more worried then if it was one of us in the hospital. Not that he wouldn't worry about any of us, but he really seems concerned. More then a boss, concerned. Never mind, none of my business. Don't tell him I asked, okay. Personal questions about Grissom probably not the best way to get on his good side."

Greg was standing now, bouncing on his feet as he talked.

"So, I think it's my turn to leave. There are a lot of people who want to see you, Sara."

He backed out of the room, taking on last look at Sara as he left and running into Warrick in the process.

"Sorry, man."

Warrick looked at the woman on the bed and felt a chill creep down his spine. Another one. It seemed like the only times he came to the hospital, outside of work, it was to sit at the bedside of strong women. First there had been his mother. He hardly remembered her. Didn't have any memories of her tucking him into bed at night, or taking him places. He did remember sitting next to her bed in a hospital and knowing that it was the last time he would see her. No one had told him. He just knew.

Years latter it was his grandmother in the hospital bed. He was a senior in college, still living at home. He had lived with her since the age of seven, and everything he was he owed the frail woman in the bed. She had battled long and hard to make him a man worthy of respect. Not the flashy and false kind of respect he he found flashing around the cash he earned as a runner or in the casinos. The real kind, like when he earned an a on a paper, or got a job interview for the LVPD crime unit a month before he even received his diploma. She was only in the hospital for days, a fact she would have been glad of. Wouldn't want to slowly waste away. Not his Grams.

Four years ago it had been Holly Gribbs in the hospital. He never had the chance to visit her; she never made it off of the hospital table. _No_. He had to stop thinking like that.

"Your not them," he said, as if the words alone could make it true.

"You are Sara Sidle, and you are going to leave this hospital in a car, not by way of the morgue." He watched her even breathing, and found himself wishing that he'd gone on and gotten his MD. He had thought about it, a thousand years ago. Then, it had been more about ego then about helping people. He was offered a scholarship to grad school, but turned it down. If he had taken it, maybe he wouldn't be sitting here feeling so helpless. But then again, he wouldn't be sitting here at all. He wouldn't know Sara, or Nick, Greg, Griss, Catherine. No, he wouldn't give them up for everything. The past few years had shown him how important his friends were to him.

"You are my friend, Sara. I don't know if I've ever told you that."

Brass strode into the room as if he owned the place.

"Hey, kiddo. Brass here. Now, I know you don't have a dad, so I've decided that the role of parent today will be played by yours truly. I'm not going to say anything about how royally you've messed things up. I don't believe in kicking someone when they're down. Unless were talking criminals, and then it's okay. Can even be fun. But I digress."

He was leaned back into the chair, looking to the casual observer as if he was having a casual conversation. If you looked closely, though, you could see proof of his tension. It was in the clenching of his jaw, the white around he knuckles, the sharp look in his eye.

"We're going to just assume that you understand that this whole not-telling-anyone bullshit was a mistake, and go from there. Outside this room there are a hell of a lot of people who care about you, Sidle. They're out there, pacing and whispering and worrying. So here's what is going to have to happen. You are, first of all, going to get better. You are going to get of of this hospital as soon as possible, because, quite frankly, the place gives me the creeps. We, the team, are going to help you with whatever you need, and you are going to gracefully accept said help. There will be visits and phone calls. There will also be meals, because you need more meat on your bones. It's a shame about the whole vegetarian thing, because I grill a mean T-bone. Now, do we understand each other? Good."

Brass nodded his head, glad to get that all off his chest. Such a shame she hadn't heard a word. Oh, well. He'd just have to repeat it once she woke up.

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I miss Sara! I had to have her out of the way for a couple chapters, couldn't avoid it to further the story line, byt I'm happy to have her back. Jbr12476, I can't promise that Grissom is 'okay', but I think that he _is_ doing better.

Chapter 9

The room was dark when Sara woke up. There was no moment of disorientation, no 'where am I?' She clearly remembered the pain, the 911 call, Grissom on the phone. Her last clear memory was opening the door to the paramedics. While she didn't know precisely what had happened, she wasn't surprised by her surroundings. She took in the sterile whiteness of the hospital room, the beeping of machines, and the IV line in her left arm. In the dim light she could just make out the clock hanging on the wall. 4:37. She had no way of knowing if she had been out for twenty four hours, or forty eight. Maybe more. Feeling around the bed she found a call button, and pressed it.

"So your awake Miss. Sidle." It had taken the nurse more then ten minutes to answer her page, and Sara had to wonder what was happening at four in the morning to otherwise occupy the hospital staff.

"How long..." Sara coughed, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"You've been here for just about a day," the nurse informed her, understanding the unfinished question.

"What happened?"

"Your doctor will be in for rounds in about three hours. He can tell you about your medical condition. Is there anything I can get for you?" She reached out for Sara's wrist and felt for the pulse, silently counting.

_Answers would be nice. _She looked around the room.

"A phone. I need a phone please."

"It's pretty early. Why don't you rest for a while longer, and I can bring you a phone after breakfast."

Suddenly the urge to hear a familiar voice overwhelmed her. She attempted to sit up, but a pain shot through her stomach. Sara laid back down against the pillow.

"Why don't you go get me a phone now, or I'll get out of this bed and find one myself. Okay?" She knew she was being irrational. The nurse had done nothing to deserve her harsh tone, but she couldn't stop herself. She wanted a phone and she wanted it now.

It wasn't until the third ring that Grissom was able to wake up enough to reach for the phone, the ringing only just penetrating into his subconscious. He had been dreaming. Nothing that made sense, simply a random firing of neurons resulting in flashes of sight and sound. The ringing had played into the dream at first. Only when it failed to cease did he connect it to the real world. Groggily he reached for the handset on the night stand.

"I'm not coming into the lab. I don't care how many bugs there are."

"No bugs here. I promise."

"Sara?" Suddenly he was wide awake. "God, honey. I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice."

"Same here, Griss." Her voice was still a little hoarse.

"How are you?" _Stupid question, Gil. How do you think she is?_

"I'm fine. A little sore, but honestly I don't remember a time recently when I wasn't sore." She tried to be honest with him, as much as she could. After all, he'd seen her at her worst, and by some miracle he was still around. "I'm a little lonely, though. This place is quiet. Sounds too much like a visit to Doc Robbins's."

"I'll be there as soon as I am allowed. Is there anything you want me to bring?" He was out of bed now, and headed to the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot.

"Um... if you want to stop by my place you could pick up my robe and a couple of scarfs. I feel naked in this stupid hospital gown." Grissom now had his own set of keys to her apartment. They had never discussed it, or the reason behind him having them. Neither of them were ready for those conversations; the 'in case something happens to me' one, or the 'what are we to each other' one. Sara had simply left a key out on the counter one day, and motioned to it when he came over. _That's for you._

"Anything else?"

"No. Just you."

He didn't figure that now, over the phone, was the place to mention the fact that he would not be the only person to visit her that day. The rest of the team was sure to come. That bit of news could wait.

"I've got to go, Griss. Nurse Ratchet is here with meds. I had to make her a deal. Ten minutes on the phone if I would take my pills without complaint and try to get some more sleep. You'd think that twenty four hours was enough sleep for anyone. I tried to explain that it was more sleep then I usually get on a good week, but she doesn't seem to care."

"Sleeping will make the time go quicker. Try to think of it that way. I'll be there as soon as visiting hours start."

"Thanks Grissom."

"Goodnight, Sara."

As soon as he showered and dressed, Grissom called a cab. Catherine had driven him home yesterday, while one of the guys drove his Tahoe to the CSI parking lot. While he waited to be picked up, he drank his coffee. It was strange, waking up while it was still dark outside. After so many years on graveyard, his internal clock had been completely reversed. Daylight made him sleepy, while the darkest hours of the night were when he was the most awake.

Twenty minutes later he was pulling open the front door to the lab. He strode past the receptionist desk with a nod, oblivious to the looks that followed him. Rumors were running rampant around the lab since last night. Only Brass, Al, and the night shift CSIs knew the truth about Sara. Stories traveled through the lab like lightening, each one bigger and more ridiculous then the last. Grissom had been fired. Grissom had a girlfriend, and they had eloped last night. Catherine was Grissom's girlfriend, and they had left work for a clandestine meeting. And then there was the recycling of the 'Lady Heather' rumors. Fortunately, Grissom was unaware of the whispered conferences in the rooms around him.

Nick was the first to see him.

"I though you weren't coming in this shift, man. Didn't Catherine make you go home to sleep?"

"I'm just getting a few things."

Warrick heard his supervisors voice and joined Nick in the hallway.

"Hey, boss. I have your keys in my locker. Want me to get them?"

"Thanks, Warrick."

Grissom followed the pair of CSIs further down the hall. Catherine caught up to them outside the locker room door.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were happy, Gil."

Grissom couldn't contain the grin. It covered his face.

"I actually am. Sara called me," he explained.

"Hey, that's great!" Nick exclaimed.

"How is she?" Greg joined the group congregating in the hallway.

"She yelled at her nurse. Threatened to leave if she didn't get a phone."

"You go girl." Warrick remarked. "Now, that's our Sara."

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement. Sara forcing things to go the way she wanted them to was a good sign. The relieved look on Grissom's face was completely understandable now.

Grissom stood in the hall talking with his friends for a few minutes while Warrick retrieved his keys. As he started to leave, a though occurred to him.

"Guys, if you're coming to visit Sara..."

He was interrupted by a chorus of 'yeah' and 'of course we are.'

"Can you do me a favor and wait until this afternoon. I still have to... prepare her. She doesn't know that you guys were there yesterday, and I don't want to surprise her more then necessary."

Catherine walked Grissom out to the parking lot after he had everyone's agreement.

"Gil, I know Sara. She's not going to be happy, at least at first, that we all know. So if you need someone to take the heat, blame me. Tell her I was the one who called the boys in, okay?"

"Thanks, Cath. But I think she'll understand." _I hope she will._

Sara was in shock. _Emergency surgery. Hysterectomy. _The doctor had just left. Most of what he had said was a blur, but a few vital words continually repeated inside here head. Hysterectomy. She had known that it was a possibility. Had read the word with clinical detachment months ago, when she was drowning in research on her disease. But the reality of what it meant had never sunk in. There was too much to think about, dealing with the chemo, the hair loss, the fear. She didn't have the energy or desire to focus on 'might be'.

She wasn't even sure how she felt about having children. There had never been a man, a relationship, that progressed far enough for it to be an issue. Okay, there had been one man. Grissom. But until recently she hadn't let herself hope that there was the chance of a relationship between them, let alone a future that might include children.

There had been a scare once, when she was in college. A few weeks when she thought that maybe she and her boyfriend, Ken, had screwed up. But the next week she had gotten her period, and had pushed the issue into the back of her brain, filed under 'someday.' Now someday was never. It should have been her decision to make, damn it, not some mass of cancerous cells run rampant.

Lost in her thoughts, Sara didn't notice that she was no longer alone in the room.

"Sara?" Grissom stood beside her bed, one hand holding a small overnight bag, the other reaching for her shoulder. He shook her gently to get her attention.

"Sara, I brought the things you asked for. A couple of extras, too. The new issue of _Applied Theories in Psychodynamics _came out this week. I picked up a novel for you to read too."

Sara still wasn't responding. She was facing the window, but Grissom could tell her eyes weren't focused on anything. He put down the bag and walked around the bed until he stood directly between sara and the window. Finally she looked at him, and he almost wished she hadn't. There were tears in her eyes.

"Grissom." Her voice was flat.

"What's wrong? He leaned down so that they were at eye level.

It was a minute before she responded.

"The doctor was just in here, and he... he told me..."

"I know... it's alright." He cupped her cheeks in his hands, and with the pads of his thumbs gently wiped away the tears before they could fall.

"What can I do to help you?"

"Hold me, Griss. Can you just hold me?"

He sat on the bed next to her, stretching out so that his entire frame covered the mattress. Careful to avoid the IV line, he pulled her on top of him. She curled up, hiding her face against his neck, taking comfort in the smell of him. There were no tears, no sighs, no spoken words. Sara's hands rested on Grissom's chest, Grissom's hands on Sara's back. Later there would talking, explaining, and yelling. For now the two lay as one, and drew strength from the simple union.

When the nurse came in an hour later, she found her patient asleep, and not alone. She tiptoes out of the room and closed the door behind her.

To be continued...


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: So, this is a short chapter. More of a chapterlet. But today was the Forth, and I had parties to go to and fireworks to watch. Couldn't let the day pass completely without visiting my CSIs, though.

Chapter 10

Grissom was the first one to wake up. Sara was still on top of him, hadn't seemed to have moved at all in the hour they had been asleep. He tightened his arms around her, holding her to him as close as possible. His movement caused the downy soft hair of Sara's head to rub against his neck. He wished he could let her sleep longer, but a glance at the clock on the wall revealed that afternoon visiting hours began in half an hour. If he didn't want her to be caught of guard when the others showed up, he would have to wake her up now.

"Sara, wake up."

At the sound of her name Sara burrowed deeper into the crook between Grissom's neck and shoulder. This time her hair brushed against the sensitive skin on the underside of Grissom's jaw, just under his ear. It was a little known fact, but Grissom was ticklish. He couldn't keep himself from laughing as she moved her head again.

The ground was shaking under her. Sara's first thought was of earthquakes, but she wasn't in California anymore. Finally she woke up enough to surmise that it wasn't the ground shaking, but the surface she was laying on; that would be Grissom's chest, which was rumbling with laughter. She lifted up her head to look at him.

"Griss?"

"Sorry, Sara. Your hair tickles."

_Grissom is ticklish. _Sara stored away that vital piece of information, never knowing when it might come in useful. She had many similar factoids, could have filled a file cabinet if she had written them all down. The way he took his coffee (one sugar, no cream unless it was the real stuff.) His favorite dessert (apple pie, hold the ice cream.) The way he smelled. And now this humorous fact.

"How long was I asleep?" Sara rolled to her side, where she could better see Grissom's face.

"_We _slept for almost two hours." Grissom also moved, stretching with his hands pressed to his lower back before moving off of the bed.

"Sara, I have to tell you something."

At that moment the door opened and a tray-bearing nurse entered the room. She laid the tray on the table beside Sara's bed. She fluttered around the room, opening the window blinds, checking the IV bag, taking Sara's pulse. As she spoke her hands moved to emphasize her words, reminding Sara of a younger Nora.

"You missed lunch, so I brought you a tray now. Brought enough for your friend too. Visiting hours start in thirty minutes. I suspect all your friends will be back today. There sure were a lot of them. Filled the waiting room. That older man, the one with the cane? He spent almost an hour talking over your case with your doctors. The younger ones, they kept asking the nurses questions. Every five minutes, it seemed, one of them would have something more to ask. Not that any of us minded. Your sure have some cute friends. I have to say, I liked the look of the blond one, with the spiky hair."

"What?" Sara finally found her voice. She turned to Grissom, who was doing his best to avoid looking her in the eyes.

"What the hell is she talking about?"

The nurse looked from Sara to Grissom. Apparently she had said something wrong. Unsure what it was, she decided that the best thing she could do was leave. Let them sort it out.

"You promised, Grissom. You gave me your word." Sara was angry. No one was supposed to know about her cancer. She had a plan. In a few more months she was hoping to be in remission. She'd be able to return to work, no one the wiser. The first time she 'saw' everyone in three months was not supposed to be in a hospital bed.

"I didn't tell anyone, Sara. Well, except Al. But they wouldn't tell me anything about you, and I needed someone who could tell me what was going on." A look of pain flashed across Grissom's face when he remembered the helplessness of sitting in the waiting room, not knowing what was wrong.

Sara saw the look and almost softened. Almost.

"Fine. They know." She was resigned to the fact, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "I want you to call them right now and tell them that they are not to come here and see me. I don't want any visitors."

"But they already..."

Sara looked at him in horror.

"They've already been here? Not just to the hospital, but here, in this room? Shit."

Catherine heard the raised voice of her coworker almost as soon as she walked off the elevator. Sara was definitely awake. Catherine didn't bother to knock, walking into the hospital room with her usual aplomb.

"You do a pretty passable impression of a teenager's tantrum, Sara. Sound just like Lindsey when I tell her she can't go to the mall."

The two occupants of the room whirled around to face the interruption. Their looks were almost comical, as they couldn't decide how to greet the visitor. Grissom was confused and grateful, but tried to pull off his normal I-show-no-expression look. It didn't work. Sara was upset, but more embarrassed, and didn't care who saw her expression.

"Hey Cath. I don't think that..."

"Don't think that you have to be here right now? You're right. Why don't you go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Even there food down there has to be better then what I see on that tray over there." In movements so quick he didn't know what hit him, Catherine had Grissom ushered out of the room. She turned too face Sara, who was openly glaring at her. _As if that's going to scare me off. She knows me better then that._

"The guys wanted to come with me. I told them tonight would be better. Figured you'd want a little time to get ready before they came."

"I don't want them at all. They can come see me later. When I'm at home." _And have the ability to lock the door._

"Nice try. They're coming tonight. But before then... whalla!" She held up the bag in her hand and opened it, revealing makeup and a folded bundle of cloth. "Pajamas, because no one looks good in one of those hospital gowns," she explained.

"Catherine, go away."

So much for the easy way. Time to take up the kid gloves. Hands on hips, Catherine squared off with Sara.

"The rest of the team _is_ coming to see you tonight. They care about you, and need to see with their own eyes that you are okay. I know you feel like crap. I can't begin to imagine how horrible the last few months have been for you. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, not even Ecklie. But you..."

Catherine's lecture was interrupted by Sara's laughter. She had expected Sara to be angry with her interference, or resigned, if she was lucky. She did not expect the spectacle before her. Sara was laughing so hard that there were tears streaming down her face. It was a couple of minutes before she could compose herself enough to answer Catherine's questioning gaze.

"Ecklie," she sputtered. "You were talking, and I got this mental image of Ecklie trying to explain to the sheriff that he need time of because he had _ovarian _cancer. Just imagine the rumors at the lab about that one."

"It sure would explain some things about him," Catherine responded wryly.

Grissom was surprised, when he returned to the room, to find Sara docilely sitting on the bed, allowing Catherine to apply makeup to her face. She was dressed in purple silk pajamas, with a floral print scarf wrapped around her head. Grissom's heart skipped a beat. She looked... happy.

"I brought you tea, and a salad." He set his offerings down on the table, moving the tray filled with hospital food out of the way. In addition to Sara's tea there were two cups of coffee. "Coffee, Cath?"

He reached out for Sara's arm, running his fingers over the sleek fabric. Catherine raised an eyebrow in speculation. _I know a familiar gesture when I see one._

"Catherine, uh, convinced me that it was a good idea to let the team come after all." Her back turned to Grissom, Catherine rolled her eyes. Twenty minutes later she left, smiling to herself. How many years had she been wanting to do a makeover on Sara? Maybe not under these circumstances, but you take what you can get. More then anyone, she was aware of the power a little makeup can have on your image of yourself, and hoped that in some small way she had been able to help her friend.

Grissom and Sara were once again alone in the room.

"You look good."

"Yeah, right," Sara returned sarcastically.

"Sara, you still have the power to make me appreciate beauty."

Sara wasn't sure if she believed him, but the words were nice to hear.

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Inara, paragraph one's a nod to you. I was stuck, and your review suddenly gave me the nudge I needed to start this chapter. Thanks. Also, thanks to my sister who lets me use her as a sounding board for story ideas.

Chapter 11

Sara wasn't ready for them when they came. Three months had passed since she had seen any of her coworkers, excluding Grissom and this afternoon's visit from Catherine. Okay, so they had seen her yesterday, but that didn't count. If anything, that made it worse. Thoughts of barricading herself in the bathroom, using all of the hospital's machines to block the door, occurred to her. She might have done it too, if she had been alone. Somehow, she couldn't see herself talking Grissom into her plan. Though the idea of Grissom locked in a room with no way to escape did have some merit. Shame she wasn't in a position to do anything about it. _Someday._

Warily she watched the clock, the hands moving all too quickly. Visiting hour had begun. It was as if they had been waiting out in the hallway for a soundless bell to ring. The second the clock's hand hit six, there was a knock on the already open hospital door.

"Hey, girl. Up for some company?" Warrick was the first one to enter the room. He came with arms overflowing. In one hand he carried a vase of gerber daisies, in the other a gold box with the familiar 'See's Candy' logo printed on it. Under his arm was a large brown teddy bear.

"Hi, Warrick," she replied bashfully, accepting the teddy bear and gesturing to the table for the other gifts.

"Hope your hungry, because I brought contraband." Nick was the next to enter. He carried in familiar white paper boxes.

"Oh, God. Please tell me that's what I think it is." Sara perked up at the prospect of her favorite meal.

"Yup." He smiled, pleased that inspiration had struck on the drive from home to the hospital. He knew from his own experience the food here was not great. "I got all your usual selections."

"Sorry, bear." Sara abandoned the stuffed animal to the floor in favor of the food.

"That's harsh," Warrick joked.

"Oh, not that one." Nick stopped her from opening the carton in her hand. She looked perplexed. Nick turned the box around to show her a large black 'X' scrawled on the side.

"I had them mark this one so it didn't get mixed up with the others," he explained. "It's sweet and sour pork, for Griss."

Grissom stared at Nick. He was touched that he would think of such a thing. Surprised, too. For some reason it always surprised him when people did things like that for him. Maybe he was too cynical. Maybe Catherine was right. They _were_ building a family, around him.

"You look so much better then you did yesterday." Greg somehow managed to walk into the room and put his foot in his mouth, all at the same time. Nick was closest to the lab-tech-turned-CSI, and used his advantage to elbow him in the ribs. They had already agreed that they weren't going to mention yesterday's visit to the hospital. No one wanted to make Sara more self conscious then she already was.

"Sorry. I just meant... it's good to see you, Sara. We've missed you." Greg also came bearing bouquets. No normal arrangements of flowers for him, though. In one hand he grasped the ribbons that lead to a dozen mylar balloons. In the other he held a collection of decorated sugar cookies on sticks. Each one was frosted differently, but the piece de resistance was a large cookie in the middle of the arrangement, covered in a pattern of lines and whirls that looked exactly like a fingerprint.

It was almost like old times. Under Grissom's watchful eye, Sara ate a little bit of food from each of the Thai food cartons. What she didn't finish was passed around to the rest of the group. Grissom sat in the corner, taking his more comfortable position as observer rather the participant. It was impossible for him to be totally passive, though, as the others kept pulling him into the conversation.

"Did you tell Sara about that woman? The one with all those gnomes in her yard?"

Grissom shook his head, motioning for Warrick to tell the story.

"So Griss and I get to this house. There had to be at least thirty of those little yard gnomes on the front lawn."

"At least," Grissom agreed.

"Really, pretty creepy sight." Warrick rolled his eyes at the memory.

"We get inside to find David already examining the DB. When we got back to the lab, Doc Robbins tells us cause of death is blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Took a while to figure out the murder weapon. Turns out, the wife found out her husband was having an affair, and she hit him with the first thing she picked up. A lawn gnome. Death by yard art."

Everyone in the room burst into laughter, even though they had all heard the story before. It was such a relief to be able to just be together.

"I knew there was a reason I never liked the look of those things," Sara commented when the laughter subsided.

"Oh, oh, oh!" Greg started jumping in place like an eager schoolboy calling for the teacher's attention. There was a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "Someone has to tell Sara about the case with Nick and the cows."

"No, man." Nick was quick with his denial. "I think Sara would much rather hear the story about you and the club. You know, _that_ club?"

Sara look from Nick to Greg, amused to see that Greg had turned a deep red color. Embarrassed? Was this the same Greg who kept porn magazines in the lab and bragged about his liking liquid latex and mineral oil rubs? Definitely something she had to find out. Ignoring Greg's puppy dog eyes, Sara turned to Nick.

"Tell me the story."

"I'm just going to... go find... I'll be back." Greg hurried out of the room, leaving a victorious and relieved Nick behind to regale his friend with an amusing tale full of sex, murder, and a CSI that somehow managed to handcuff himself to a rather large piece of evidence.

Greg returned to a room full of laughter.

"I never figured you for bondage, Greggo," Sara teased.

Greg covered his face with his hands and leaned against the nearest wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor. Slowly he removed his hands, revealing a cocky grin.

"Why, you interested?" he teased.

Grissom glared at him.

The next hour passed quickly. The three members of the night shift took turns entertaining Sara with the funny, bizarre, and odd cases they had worked in the past months. Carefully they stayed away from the harder stories, the ones involving rape, assault, and violence against children. Even under normal circumstances those were stories they rarely shared, each finding their own way to cope with those particular cases.

Somehow Warrick, Nick, and Greg kept managing to top each other in their stories. Even Grissom got one in, involving Hodges and a piece of evidence that repeatedly disappeared from his lab. Grissom was watching Sara when he noticed that her eyes were dropping. She saw him watching her, and tried to hide her exhaustion by opening her eyes wider then normal. He was not fooled.

"Guys, work starts in a couple of hours, and Sara needs her rest. Time to say your goodbyes." No one questioned his authority, whether because they were used to it at work or because they understood the protective nature of his relationship with Sara, they did not think to argue with his declaration. Quickly saying their goodbyes, they left the room.

"Bye Sara."

"See you tomorrow."

"Take care, girl."

Grissom walked them to the elevator.

"How is she doing, really?" Nick was the one brave enough to broach the subject they had avoided all night.

Grissom sighed. He knew it was wishful thinking to hope that they wouldn't ask any questions. After all, they were investigators.

"She's... better. The doctor said she could go home tomorrow, or the day after at the latest. After she recovers from the surgery she still has chemo."

The guys all looked dismayed. In all their worry about Sara being in the hospital, none of them had thought of the bigger picture.

"Chemo. That sucks. My Grams went through that." Warrick shook his head slowly, remembering.

"You coming to work tonight?" Greg inquired.

"I'll be there. Tell Catherine to pass out the assignment slips if I'm late."

The elevator arrived, and departed again, taking with it three CSIs.

Grissom returned to Sara's room to find that his chair had been claimed. Brass's boisterous voice could be heard even outside the room.

"Hey, kid, how you doing?"

Grissom stopped just inside the room, and turned so that Brass could see his face but Sara couldn't. 'She needs to sleep,' he mouthed. Brass rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively at his friend. _Someone's a bit overprotective._

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee," Grissom told Sara. "I'll be right back."

'Five minutes,' he mouthed to Brass as he left. Brass gave him a wry grin.

Instead of getting coffee, Grissom went downstairs and walked out of the building. Nine o'clock at night, and the relatively nice weather of the day had transformed into a cold night, complete with wind. He could see the water vapor of his breath crystalize in the cold air. It looked like little clouds of smoke, and Grissom had a sudden craving for a cigarette. It had been years since he had smoked. After all, what self respecting scientist could ignore the research on tobacco and its dangers. But sometimes, after a difficult case or a particularly long day, he itched to light a cigarette and breath in the toxic smoke. Those were the days when he drove down the strip to the New York, New York and rode the roller coaster until the craving went away or the tension drained from him.

Grissom resisted the urge to do either now. He didn't want to return to Sara's room smelling like cigarette smoke, and the coasters were too far away. It was bad enough that he had to leave Sara to go to work. He wasn't going to go any sooner then he had to. So he sat on the curb outside the hospital, shivering in the night air. In another minute he would go back inside, but first he took a few deep breaths, trying to force the tension out of his body as he exhaled. He hoped tonight would be a light one at work. The last thing he needed to deal with was a difficult case. _Maybe I'll take the smash and grabs tonight._

Brass was just leaving when Grissom once again walked down the white hallway to Sara's room.

"You remember what I said, right?" Brass watched Sara carefully, waiting for her acknowledgment.

"Yeah. I promise." Sara was trying to hide a yawn as she nodded to the homicide captain.

"Night, Brass. Thanks for..." She couldn't keep back the yawn any longer.

"Goodnight, Sara. Gil, I'll see you at work?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, I'm off to catch some bad guys." Brass sent one more satiric grin in Sara's direction before leaving.

Grissom resumed his former seat. He straightened out her blankets and pushed the bedside table away.

"What did Brass make you promise?"

"Oh, the usual. Let him know if I need anything. Promise to ask for help in the future. He likes to..." meddle, she wanted to say, but that sounded rude. He simply felt the need to put his two cents in when he noticed something happening that he didn't like. It was a repeat of the cough drop lecture a couple of years ago. Brass simply wanted to make it clear that she wasn't alone, and needed to remember that. Or else he would remind her, again.

Sara's eyes closed before she could think of a way to end her thought. Grissom pulled away, thinking she needed to sleep.

"Grissom?" she spoke, eyes cracked open.

"I'm still here." He reached out for the hand closest to him and held it.

"Will you stay for a little bit? I know you need to go to work." She hated her weakness, but she didn't want to be alone tonight.

"I'll stay, Sara. The world will not end if I'm late to work."

"Are you sure?" Sara joked. "I think that's one of the signs of the apocalypse. Gil Grissom, late to work."

"Funny. Your one to talk about spending too much time at work."

Grissom was not surprised when Sara didn't have a snappy comeback. Her answer was a soft snore.

The sounds outside her door combined with the light streaming in through her window woke Sara up in the morning. Her first thought was that today might be the day she got to go home. Her second was that there was a weight pressing against her leg. She looked down to see Grissom bent over, sitting in the chair while using her thigh as a pillow. He must have come straight from work. The clothes he wore were disheveled, and she wondered when the last time he had been home was.

Grissom's face was not a picture of tranquil sleep. His brow was furrowed in a series of tension lines, and his jaw was obviously tightly clenched. She reached out to caress his face, wishing she could draw out the tension with the simple movement. Her fault. The stress he wore on his face was because of her. Her cancer. This, she admitted to herself, was part of the reason she had tried to sneak away those many months ago. She didn't want anyone else to have to pay the price for her disease.

The motion of fingers trailing across his skin was enough to wake Grissom out of his light sleep. He sat up, automatically burying the tension lines under the calm outer mask he so often wore. He reached up and mimicked her own actions of a minute ago, running his fingers along the side of her face.

"Good morning."

"Griss, you didn't have to come here. You need your sleep. You should be at home, in your own bed." Sara pushed the button on the edge of her bed, holding it until she was raised to a sitting position.

Grissom leaned into her, silencing her protests when he brushed his lips against hers in an almost-casual kiss.

"I wanted to wake up with you."

To be continued...


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I have to break Sara out of the hospital! She's lying in the bed and I'm the one getting claustrophobic.

Chapter 12

"Your releasing me today, right?" Sara didn't even let the doctor say hello before she asked her question. She wanted out of this stupid hospital bed, and she wanted out now.

"It looks that way, Miss Sidle." The doctor flipped through the chart in his hand, reviewing the notes written there. "Everything looks good. You'll need to make an appointment with your regular oncologist in a few days, though."

"Great. I'm out of here."

"Are you sure it's not too soon?" Grissom spoke for the first time since the doctor arrived. "She just had major surgery a little more then forty-eight hours ago."

He look worriedly at Sara, who scowled at him in return.

"I'm fine, Griss. The doctor wouldn't agree to release me if he didn't think I was well enough to go home." Sara understood that his questioning came from a place of concern, but no one was going to keep her in the hospital one minute longer then she had to be.

"But..."

"Grissom," she warned, her voice low, "I'm fine."

Grissom took her warning seriously, but he didn't like it. Pressing his lip together to keep from speaking, he silently berated doctors, insurance companies, and stubborn woman. What if he took her home and she suddenly felt worse? At least he had the foresight to ask Catherine to cover his shift tonight. There was no way he was leaving her alone on her first night back home.

It took almost an hour, after the doctor gave his okay, to fill out the paperwork and collect Sara's things. She had quite a bit to take with her; none of her visitors had come empty handed. The back seat of Grissom's truck was covered with her gifts, and he couldn't see anything in his rear view mirror, thanks to Greg's balloons. He drove straight to her apartment, knowing without asking that she would rather go there then to his townhouse. Although they had spent the occasional day at his place in the past months, her apartment was more cozy and comforting, no question.

Sara headed directly for her bedroom when she entered the apartment. She didn't bother to check the mail or her phone messages. No one who mattered would have left a message, anyway. Anyone who mattered already knew where she was. Grissom followed her down the hall, pausing just outside the room. He watched as she pulled back the covers and got in the bed, restlessly moving around. She sat up and nodded her head towards the other side of the bed.

"Why don't you come sleep with me?" It was almost the same offer she had made him before, a thousand years ago. The tone behind the words was different this time. Last time she had been lashing out in pain and frustration. This was about compassion, and maybe a little selfish need.

"You look as tired as I feel, Griss. If that's true, I'm surprised your not asleep on your feet."

He was torn. The idea of of climbing in the bed with Sara, even just to sleep beside her, was more then tempting. There were rules, though, that he had lived by for so long. Boundaries that he, as a friend, a gentleman, and certainly as her boss, wasn't sure he should cross.

"I'll sleep on your couch." The rational side of his brain won the first round, but didn't figure on Sara putting up a fight.

"Grissom, I know for a fact that my couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep. My bed, on the other hand, is very comfortable." If logic didn't work, she would try teasing him into complacency.

"I give you my word that if you sleep with me I won't try to take advantage of you. At least not this time. No promises for the future_."_

Grissom stared at her, not sure if he should laugh at her comment or or take her seriously. He decided the easiest thing to do would be to give in to her request. Shedding his socks, shoes, and belt as he walked around to the other side of the bed, Grissom joined Sara. As soon as he was settled, Sara backed up against him. In a move so instinctual he didn't even think about it, Grissom wrapped his arms around her waist. Thus enjoined, they quickly gave into their exhaustion.

Grissom woke up to an empty bed. If had been in his own room, he might have thought that sleeping with Sara had been a dream. He'd dreamt of it often enough, the simple act of falling asleep with the lanky brunette wrapped in his embrace. More then once he had actually awaken to find himself clasping one of his pillows to his chest. This morning, however, he was not alone in his bed. He was alone in Sara's bed, and the sheets beside his were still warm. She had not been out of the bed for long.

He found her in the kitchen, filling a tea kettle with water from the sink.

"Let me do that." He walked up behind her and reached for the kettle.

"I'm not a damn invalid, Grissom. I can make my own tea." Sara swatted at his hand with one of her own. After she turned on the stove to heat the water she proceeded to the fridge where she found eggs, cheese and some relatively fresh broccoli. It looked like they was having omelets for breakfast.

When she turned from the fridge to set the food on the counter, Grissom was still standing in the middle of the kitchen. Sara sighed.

"Why don't you go read or turn on the TV? Your making me nervous. I feel like I'm on the wrong side of an interrogation table."

Grissom wanted to protest, but knew that it would be pointless. She had that stubborn look in her eye. Then again, when didn't she. He compromised by moving into the dining room and nonchalantly flipping through the pages of a magazine while secretly watching her. There was no way he was going to let her over do it, no matter how stubborn she was.

"Interesting reading." Sara brought out two plates and placed them on the table. "So, which one are you?"

Grissom looked at her, puzzled, before he turned to see the title of the article he had been theoretically reading. 'One piece or bikini? Finding the swimsuit that suits you.' Grissom blushed.

"I don't think any of them are really me."

Sara laughed, and spontaneously bent down to kiss the red cheek.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"You don't need to stay."

"Sara, we are not going through this again. I am staying here tonight." They had been arguing back and forth for the last forty five minutes, ever since he had announced that he wasn't going in to work that night.

"Grissom, you need to go to work, and then you need to go home and sleep. There is absolutely no point in you staying here, when all I'm going to be doing is sleeping." She had said it before, but he evidentially had not heard her. He was always so stubborn.

"You have been out of the hospital for all of ten hours. Argue all you want, but I'm not leaving."

"I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I have been for most of my life."

"I'm not questioning that. But I do think you shouldn't be alone tonight."

"Whatever. Have it your way." Sara threw up her hands in surrender. She turned away from him and stomped down the hall, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Great. Now he had her acting like a sullen teenager. All day he had followed her around, sometimes with his eyes, sometimes literally walking behind her. She tried to make allowances. It had been a difficult couple of days, probably almost as bad for him as it was for her. _Except for the part where they cut me open and removed my insides._ But the way he was acting now made her feel like she was suffocating.

Sara changed from her sweats into flannel pajamas. Buried under the blankets, she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. No matter what she tried, she couldn't get comfortable. The guilt was nagging at her. She really could have been nicer to Grissom. The only reason he was refusing to leave was because he wanted to take care of her. She got out of bed and returned to the living room.

He had turned all the lights off. The TV was still on from earlier, casting an eerie blue light on the room, but the sound had been muted. Grissom was sitting on the couch, and Sara immediately regretted all her arguing. He looked so... forlorn. His shoulders were slumped, and he sat perfectly still, staring at the hands resting in his lap, but not really seeing them. His thoughts were elsewhere.

"Hey."

Grissom looked up at the sound of her voice.

"I'm sorry." Sara walked farther into the room, and sat down on the coffee table facing him.

"No, I'm sorry. Your right. You are a highly capable person. I'll go, if you want me to."

"Griss, no. You know me. I always react first, before I think. Kind of the polar opposite of you." She moved forward so that their knees were touching, and reached out to take his hands in hers.

"I don't want you to leave. Unless you want to."

"No," he replied quickly, as if he was afraid she would take back her offer if he took too long in responding. "I want to be here."

"Okay."

They sat like that for long moments, knee to knee, palm to palm, fingers interlocked. When Sara stood up and released his hands, Grissom thought that she was returning to her room. It surprised him when she lowered herself onto his lap instead. The few added inches put them at eye level, a fact that she used to her advantage.

"I need to make it clear to you, how much I appreciate everything you have done for me." She held his gaze, needing to be sure he understood what she was telling him.

"Even when I'm being bitchy, I'm still grateful." A few inches was all that separated them, and Sara quickly covered the distance to press a kiss against his mouth. She pulled back, and looked him directly in the eyes once again. "Thank you."

It took Grissom a moment to recover, but when he did he pulled her back to him again. This time when their lips met it was not about gratitude, or friendship. It was pure passion. Grissom released all the emotion he had been holding in for the last days, emotion that Sara eagerly accepted. When the kiss deepened they explored each other's mouths, learning for the first time the tastes and sensations that had been kept secret for so long. Grissom pulled away from Sara reluctantly.

"Your welcome." Tenderly he reached out and stroked her hair. She was smiling at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"I think it's time for bed."

Sara sighed, knowing he was right but not wanting to break the perfection of the moment.

"Will you come with me?"

"Yes." He waited until she stood up and reached out a hand to him. Standing, he accepted it, and let her lead him down the hall.

To be continued...


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Ecklie almost redeemed himself in my eyes during GD. But he is so good at being a dick, I had to write him as he usually is.

Chapter 13

"Three."

Sara had just opened her eyes to find that Grissom was watching her. Instead of a 'good morning,' a number had been the first word out of his mouth.

"Three?" She looked at him, perplexed.

"This make three times now that I've woken up next to you. First time in an actual bed, though."

Sara had to laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement. Trust Grissom to keep track of such a thing. She looked at him to find him smirking back at her. He was leaning on his elbow, holding his head up with his hand. Sara took a moment to admire the view. Gil Grissom, the man she had known for more then ten years, and been in love with for at least half that time, was in her bed. True, he was fully dressed. But he had held her for the whole night, and before they had gone to sleep he had kissed her once again. It had been a slow gentle kiss that had made her think of slipping into a hot bath of scented water. Her skin started to tingle at the memory.

"How about breakfast in bed?" Grissom interrupted her thoughts. Reading her mind, he silenced her protests before she could make them. "You cooked yesterday. It's my turn."

"I'll only agree if you join me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." He rolled out of the bed, and Sara instantly regretted the loss of his warmth.

Laying in bed, Sara listened to the sounds of pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen. She debated taking a shower while Grissom made breakfast, but decided against it. Plenty of time for that later. She did make a quick trip into the bathroom, both to relieve her bladder, and to brush her teeth. On the off chance she was the lucky recipient of another kiss, she didn't want to be caught with morning breath.

She must have dozed a little, because next thing she knew Grissom was entering the bedroom with a tray. Sitting up in bed, she admired the selection he placed before her. Pancakes, fruit salad, scrambled eggs, and a glass of milk.

"Where did all this food come from? I didn't think my fridge was very well stocked."

"That's one of the great things about living in a place like Vegas. You can get anything delivered." He handed her a fork, and picked up one of the bowls of fruit for himself.

"Well, it definitely looks better then the hospital tray yesterday."

"Some of the stuff we process at work looks better then the food on the hospital tray yesterday." He agreed.

Sara was about to reach for her own bowl of fruit when she spied a particularly ripe looking piece of melon in Grissom's bowl. Smiling, she reached over with her fork and took it. Grissom grinned at her before leaning over and snatching a piece of pineapple from her bowl with his fingers.

"Turn about's fair play," he said as he licked the juice off his thumb.

"Can I come in with you?"

Grissom was gather his things, getting ready to leave for work. He still had to stop by his townhouse, because he hadn't thought to bring a change of clothes with him.

"Come to my house?" he questioned.

"No. I mean, yes, but then I want to go to the lab too." Now that her secret was out, the lab was not the forbidden zone she had forced it to be. She was going stir crazy, and hoped for a change of scene. The colorful walls of her apartment were only slightly less restricting then the plain white ones of her hospital room had been. She needed to escape, and Grissom's announcement that he was going to work seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"Sara, your not going into work. Not tonight."

"I don't plan to work. See me, taking full advantage of my paid sick leave? I just want to go in, say hi to the guys, maybe steal a cup of Greg's blue Hawaiian. I won't so much as breath on any evidence, or pick up a single case file. Active or cold." Grissom looked at her, and she could tell he was thinking of giving in.

"What if you get tired?" He had to admit, the idea of being able to keep an eye on her had merit.

"I'll take a cab home, or you can make one of the boys drop me off." She could tell she had won. "Give me five minutes to change, and I'll be ready to go."

It was closer to fifteen when she reemerged from the bedroom, dressed in faded jeans and a deep purple sweater. She was wearing her wig for the first time in a week, and it surprised him to see her with a full head of hair.

"Ready?" he asked.

Picking up her keys and jacket, she nodded.

"Sara!" Greg was the first to see them as they entered the lab, and he bounded down the hall with a look that reminded Grissom of an overgrown puppy greeting his master at the end of the day. He watched as the ecstatic Greg wrapped Sara up in a hug.

"You must have smelled the coffee beans percolating, because I just put on a pot."

"That must be it," Sara joked, letting Greg drag her into the break room. By some coincidence (maybe the fact that they were all obsessive workaholics) the entire night shift was already gathered, despite the fact that shift didn't start for more then twenty minutes.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sar, cause we're all glad to see you, but what are you doing here?" Warrick also greeted Sara with a hug, this one not quite as exuberant as Greg's had been.

"Yeah, we all know Grissom isn't about to let you return to work." Catherine folded the cell phone she had been talking into and joined in the conversation.

"First of all, Grissom is not my keeper."

"Someone should tell him that." Nick spoke under his breath, but not quietly enough. Sara shot him a glare.

"Second of all," she spoke again, "I'm not here to work. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't destroyed the lab in my absence."

She regretted her words as soon as she said them. They had been meant as a joke, but the second they were out of her mouth they reminded her of the time the lab had been destroyed. Guiltily, she looked at Catherine.

Catherine took Sara's words as she had meant them.

"Amazingly enough, the lab has not fallen down without you here to hold it up," she quipped.

When Grissom entered the break room he found Sara ensconced on the couch, steaming mug between her pale hands. Nick sat next to her, Warrick was gracefully perched on the armrest on her other side, Greg was sitting in a chair that faced backwards, and Catherine stood behind the couch, fingering Sara's wig.

"Very nice. If I didn't know better, I would say that it was your real hair. Where'd you go?"

"Friend of Grissom's has a shop."

Grissom, friend. They sounded weird in the same sentence. Catherine had known the man for almost twenty years, and she had never met a friend of Grissom's that wasn't related to work in some way.

"I hate to break up the party, but some of us have work tonight." Grissom carried a collection of assignment slips with him.

"Catherine and Greg, double murder at the Tropicana. Out-of-towner found with a prostitute, both dead. Nick, murder at Lake Mead. Take a wet suit, you might need it. Greg, you get your very own smash and grab."

As the others left the room to collect their kits, Sara glared at Grissom.

"What's your assignment? You better not be intending to stay here to baby sit me."

"There were no more cases. If something comes in, I'll take it. If not, there's always things around here to do. Want to help me fill out paperwork?"

Whatever she might have said was lost when Ecklie strode into the room.

"Gil, we need to talk."

Sara stood up from the couch, wanting to be somewhere that Ecklie was not. Whatever he had to say was not going to be good. The weasel had always been a pain, but ever since his promotion he had become down right insufferable.

"I'm going to go say hi to Doc Robbins."

Grissom nodded. Ecklie didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"David, I thought you were on your way to the Tropicana?" Al didn't look up when he heard the doors to the morgue open. He assumed his smart, but slightly absentminded, assistant had forgotten something again.

"Nope, didn't forget anything. Just trying to find a place to hide from the poison that is Ecklie." Sara stepped farther into the room, stopping a few feet away from the autopsy table Robbins was bent over.

"Well, if it isn't our errant CSI. I'm touch and honored by your presence." He smiled at her while silently looking her over. The doctor in him took in the changes that cancer and surgery had caused to her appearance. She was too thin, and he didn't like the black bruising under her eyes. As a friend, though, he saw the glint of humor in her eye, and was appeased.

"Have you been drinking with Brass after work? For a minute there I thought you were channeling the him." Sara grinned at the coroner. Privately, he always reminded her of Santa, if the jolly elf wore a lab coat instead of a red suit.

"Now there's a scary thought."

Dr. Robbins resumed his work. It was not a case for the CSIs, but a death from natural causes. Sara avoided looking at the body laying dead on the slab. It had been almost a year since the sight of a corpse had disturbed her on such a visceral level, but somehow just glancing at this one made her sick to the stomach. The last time she had reacted so strongly to a body in the morgue it had been a woman who had looked freakishly like her. A nurse, found murdered in her bathroom. This time it was a man on the table. Middle aged, no visible wounds. Maybe that was what was bothering her. She was so used to seeing the victims of violent crimes, with their visible causes of death. This man had none. She wouldn't have, if she had died at home, or on the way to the hospital. Cause of death wouldn't be clear until they cut her open and saw the ravages of cancer. Morosely she wondered if her body would have been brought here, or if they would have taken her elsewhere.

"I'm going to go find Grissom." Sara escaped from the room without giving Robbins a chance to reply.

"Bastard. Next time I throw a coffee pot, I'm aiming for him." Grissom was pacing in the break room, unaware that he had an audience.

"Who are we throwing coffee pots at?" Sara questioned from the doorway. She already knew the answer, but figured she'd give him a chance to vent.

"No one." Grissom didn't want to talk about his meeting with the assistant director. The slimy former shift supervisor had the nerve to lecture _him_ about work ethics. On top of that, he wanted to know when Grissom was going to get around to hiring a full time CSI for his shift, insinuating that he needed to replace Sara. _When hell freezes over._ Ecklie didn't even have the basic common decency to inquire about Sara's health. Bastard.

"So, what about that paperwork. Feel up to helping me?"

Sara decided to let Grissom get away with the deflection. At least for now.

"Sounds like fun," she said sarcastically.

As it turned out, it was. Sort of. They laughed and teased as they read over reports and pointed out the absurdity of some of the forms the higher ups required. More then once their hands brushed when they reached for the same paper. And just to be able to do something productive, or as productive as paper pushing could be, felt good after the long months away from work. For a little while, at least, she felt normal.

To be continued...


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: To correct a mistake in the last chapter- Greg wasn't supposed to get two assignments, I meant to send Warrick to the Trop with Cath.

Chapter 14

He woke up with Sara wrapped in his arms again, and marveled at the fact that he had lost count of the number of times he had woken up next to her. Since she had come home from the hospital six weeks ago, they had not spent a night apart. The first few times Sara had asked him to stay, but after that it just became an assumed fact. Grissom brought pajamas over, tired of waking up every day still dressed in his clothes. Sara had laughed the first time she saw him decked out in the blue striped cotton, telling him they looked like something her brother had slept in when he was little.

It was one of the few times she mentioned a family member. He asked her once, when she was curled against him after a chemo treatment, if she wanted him to call anyone, any family. Her response had been savage. _I don't have any family! _Wisely, he decided not to press the issue. Only recently had she told him the story of her childhood. The violence, the abuse, and the arguing, culminating in the night her mother killed her father. It was a revelation that cleared up so much in the mystery of who Sara Sidle was. The trauma of her childhood combined with the displacement of a adolescents spent in foster care had gone a long way to forging the woman before him. Her strength, her independence, her reaction to cases of abuse against women, her reluctance to let other people help her. It had been more then ten years since she saw a member of her family.

Sara woke up in the comforting embrace of Grissom's arms. It was funny, how quickly she had grown used to the feel of his arms around her. Now, she couldn't fall asleep until he had slipped into the bed with her. With him in the bed she was able to sleep longer and deeper then she ever had before. The other day he had gotten called out to a scene in the early afternoon, and she had tossed and turned, resting fitfully in the empty bed.

"Good morning." Grissom greeted her.

"Good afternoon," Sara corrected. Ever since the hospital, Sara had readjusted her sleep schedule to match Grissom's, falling asleep when he got home from work at 7:30 in the morning and waking up in the early afternoon.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired.

"Nervous." Last week had been Sara's last chemo treatment. Today she was scheduled to meet with her doctor and review the results of the battery of tests she had taken.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" Grissom had to ask one more time. Sara was insisting that she was going to go to the appointment by herself. He wanted to go with her, to support her no matter what the results were. To celebrate or to find out what happens next.

"We've been over this, Griss. I need to face today on my own, no matter what the doctor says." She placed her hand on his chest, absorbing the beat of his heart through her skin. It was hard to deny him his request, but she felt like she had something to prove to herself. She could face whatever happened, standing on her own to feet.

"You can take me out tonight, and we'll celebrate." _If we have something to celebrate._

Grissom was resigned.

"Dinner. Any place in particular?"

"Surprise me."

Grissom decided to go into work when she left for her doctor's appointment. It didn't matter that it was more then six hours before graveyard started. There was always something to do at the lab. If he had to stay at home and wait for Sara to call, he would go crazy. So he buried himself in photographs and computer printouts, reviewing cases on his fish cork board in an attempt to busy his mind. Sometimes he would look up at his clock and find that an entire ten minutes had passed without thinking about Sara. He had switched from cold case files to crossword puzzles when his cell phone rang.

"Grissom."

"So, where are you taking me to celebrate?"

_Celebrate._ That could only mean one thing.

"Sara, honey, does this mean the tests..."

"...were all clear. Dr. Sheldon says I can officially be considered in remission."

Remission. Suddenly, it was the most beautiful word in the English language. He sunk back into his chair, his sigh of relief audible even over the phone.

"So, dinner?"

"I'll pick you up at your place in an hour."

He just barely made it in time. After he left the lab he headed straight to his townhouse. As he walked to the bathroom to shower, Grissom noticed a slight must smell in the air and the fine layer of dust that covered the bare surfaces. His home looked neglected, and he realized again how little time he spent there.

Freshly bathed and dressed in a charcoal gray suit, Grissom stood outside Sara's door with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Normally he would tap on the door as he let himself in. Tonight felt different. It felt like a date, and it made him more then a little nervous. Funny, really. All that they had gone through, all the intimate moments, not to mention the nights spent in the same bed, and he was nervous because he was taking her out to dinner. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

"The door's open. Come in."

Sara was sitting on the couch. Her foot tapped anxiously on the floor as she called out in response to Grissom's knock. It was silly, really, to be sitting here, all too aware of the butterflies in her stomach. But the butterflies only multiplied when the door opened and Grissom walked in. _Wow._ The man looked good in a suit. Damn good. It wasn't until she took in the sight of him in all his 'double oh seven' classiness that she noticed the flowers. Her heart melted.

"Are those for me?" she questioned, pointing to the roses.

"No," he replied sarcastically. "They're for the other beautiful woman I'm taking to dinner tonight."

"Over your dead body," she joked. "Which they would never find, 'cause I have knowledge."

Grissom laughed in response while handing her the flowers.

"Reservations for Grissom, party of two."

They were at a small Italian restaurant, one of those places where the lights were dimmed and the tables were covered with red checkered cloths. He held her chair out for her.

"Careful, Grissom, or I'll begin to think this is a date."

"Who says it isn't?" he asked, eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side.

Sara blushed. _Who says it isn't. _She and Grissom were on a date. They had never, in all the past months, disused their relationship. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them. _Wait until we get throughout this._ That moment was here now. They had made it through the worst, and with a little bit of luck the cancer was behind them forever.

They ordered pasta and champagne, using the drink to toast to her health. Their dishes had been cleared and they were waiting for dessert when Sara excused herself to the restroom. When she returned there was a long white envelope on the table before her.

"Griss?" she questioned, fingering the sealed edge.

"Open it." He smiled at her, that same enigmatic smile that he used at work when he knew what the result of an experiment would be before she did.

Sara tore the top off the envelope, pouring the contents onto the table. She looked at the collection before her, and then looked up at her dinner companion in shock.

"What? When? Why?" It was all she could get out.

"The what should be obvious." He picked up the hotel brochure and handed it to her. 'Marriot, San Diego. Relaxation on the beach.' He had thought long and hard before settling on San Diego, finally deciding the spring sun and low key atmosphere would be the best choice for them.

"The when is in two weeks. I put in for some vacation time, cleared my schedule for four days." That part wasn't hard at all. He had more then fifteen weeks of vacation time on the books.

"The why is you. If anyone deserves a vacation, it's you. This is a celebration, and celebrations call for presents. If you would rather go somewhere else, or with someone else, just say the word."

Sara couldn't help it. She started to cry. Just a single tear, but it fell down her cheek and dripped onto the table, landing one one of the plane tickets. Grissom looked alarmed, until she started speaking.

"It's perfect, Griss. Your perfect, and there is no one that I would rather go on vacation with. Somehow, you keep managing to surprise me." She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and leaned across the table to reach for his cheek. Pulling him towards her, appreciative of the small size of the table between them, she pressed her lips to his. Mindful of the public forum she kept it brief.

"Thank you."

To be continued... (for one or two more chapters, I think.)


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I have put Sara and Grissom through so much, I decided that they deserved this vacation. I have not been to San Diego in almost 15 years. Any similarity between the city in my story and the real one is blind luck.

Chapter 15

"Is that all your taking?"

"Why?" Sara stood in the middle of her living room, a single duffel bag beside her.

"No reason. I just don't think I've ever seen a woman go on any kind of trip with less then two suitcases." Grissom's bag was already in his truck. He had slept at her place after shift, but had run home to pick up a few things for their trip.

"Since when have I fit the role of stereotypical woman?"

"Point taken."

The two weeks since their celebratory dinner had passed quickly. Sara still woke up every morning and smiled when the memory hit her. _Remission. No more chemo._ In the three weeks since her last treatment her hair had began to grow. Soon she might be brave enough to go out in public without a covering for her head. It would still be a little while before the doctor gave her the okay to return to work, but that day would come.

They landed in San Diego at six o'clock in the evening, and took a shuttle directly to the hotel. After registering and taking their suitcases to their room, Grissom suggested dinner. Sara agreed.

"Just as soon as I make the bed." Sara opened her suitcase and pulled out a set of sheets.

"What?" Grissom was confounded by her statement. "The bed is already made."

"There is no way I am sleeping on the sheets they provide. You've looked at enough hotel sheets with the ALS to know what can be found on them."

Grissom shook his head, but helped her make the bed anyway.

Just down the street from the hotel they stumbled on a small seafood restaurant that overlooked the ocean.

"Just right," Sara declared it.

As they ate the sun set over the ocean, filling the restaurant with watercolor hues of pinks, yellows, and oranges. By the time they ordered coffee the sky was only lit by a sliver of the moon and a million sparkling stars.

"Would you care to take a walk with me?" Grissom signed the credit card receipt and stood, reaching for Sara's hand. Sara slipped her hand in his and nodded her assent.

The sand was still warm as they walked along the beach. Grissom looked up, and observed the stars hanging above him.

"But I know, somehow, that only when it's dark enough can you see the stars. Martin Luther King Jr."

"No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit. Helen Keller" She smirked at him. "Your not the only one who can pull out quotes to fit an occasion."

"Smart ass," Grissom muttered.

"What was that?"

"Just admiring your literary ability," he lied.

"That's not the only thing to admire about me," she returned.

Grissom froze, starring at her. Sara stared back, honestly surprised by the words that seemed to flow out of her mouth on their own. Was this audacious woman her? She blamed it on the ocean, and the stars. Never in her life had she been so bold. On the job she was confident and forceful. In her personal life, the opposite was true. The last guy she had dated was Hank, more then two years ago, and that had been a horrible mistake. It had taken her more then three years of working side by side with Grissom to ask him out, that first time. Yup, definitely the fault of the stars.

"I know," Grissom finally responded, voice gruff. He kissed her then, under the San Diego sky. Under the sparkling stars. Kissed her until all the thoughts in her head disappeared, and all that was left was feeling. His lips on hers, his beard rough against her skin. The tips of his fingers rested along her neck, and she was sure that he could feel the racing of her pulse. The world fell away, and all that was left was her and Grissom.

They went to the zoo the next day. Hand in hand they wandered the paths, stopping to see the animals in what was ironically called their 'natural habitats.' The waddling of the penguins made them laugh, while the majesty of the lions had them silent in wonder. Sara stopped Grissom before he could walk into the ape house.

"Not there, Griss."

She had never been able to look at gorillas or apes, not since that case her first year in Vegas. Funny, that the death of an animal still affected her after all these years. She was all too used to death. A sign caught her eye, and she pulled him away before he could ask any questions. Ten yards down the path stood the butterfly habitat. They entered the building, where only a thin netting stood between them and the colorful specimens.

"I'll be right back," Grissom said before he disappeared behind a door.

Fifteen minutes later he returned.

"Come with me." He lead her behind the same door and down a musty hallway. Through another door, and they were standing in the middle of a tropical paradise. Nothing separated them from the butterflies, one of which landed on Sara's shoulder.

"Are we allowed to be in here?" Sara questioned.

"I spoke with the assistant zoo keeper and got permission." He looked smug.

"How?"

"There is a reason they call me Bugman behind my back at the lab. In entomological circles, I have a certain amount of clout." That was an understatement. All he had to do was introduce himself, and tell the zookeeper what he wanted to do. The field of entomology was pretty small, no pun intended, and his name was well known.

Sara held out her hand, and was awe inspired when two butterflies settled on her. Seeing the look on her face, Grissom leaned in and playfully kissed the tip of her nose.

"Don't look now, but there is a _danaus plexippus_ on your head. A monarch" he clarified.

Grissom reached out and coaxed the butterfly onto his finger. Pulling a swab out of his pocket, he stroked the butterfly until it flattened it's wings, revealing a vivid pattern of colors in orange, yellow and black.

It was there, among the butterflies, that she gave him the words she had held inside for so long.

"I love you."

He looked at her, surround by thousands of fluttering wings, and gently caressed her cheek.

"I love you, too."

He bought her a hat. It was made of straw, with a large floppy brim and a fake sunflower set to one side. It was also, quite possibly, the ugliest thing he had ever seen, but it would help to shade her delicate skin from the the harsh Southern California sun.

"I love it," Sara said as she unwrapped her scarf and replaced it with the hat. "It's perfect."

And it was. She wore the hat as they walked barefoot along the beach arms wrapped around each other's waists, letting the tide swirl around their toes. Sara glanced back over her shoulder, enjoying the simple sight of two pairs of footprints side by side. It didn't matter that the tide would wash them away. For now they were a silent testament, and seemed to say 'Sara and Grissom, together.'

She still couldn't believe this morning. He had said 'I love you.' To her. Grissom loved her. She loved Grissom. If she woke up in the morning and this was all a dream, the world was going to know the wrath of Sara Sidle. But, no. His hand on her hip, his footprint next to hers. It was real. They were real.

One their last night in San Diego, Grissom planned on taking Sara out to a fancy dinner.

"Would you mind, Griss, if we didn't. I'm pretty tired." She still wasn't up to full energy, and three days of vacation, no matter how relaxing, had drained her.

"Of course not. I'll order room service, and we'll have a private dinner. Just us."

"Are you sure? I know you had this evening planned. I'm sorry to ruin it." Sara wished she could go back into the past and draw that bundle of raw energy from the self she used to be. That old Sara always had enough to spare, to the point where sleep was difficult to attain. Now, it came all too easy.

"Sara, an evening spent with you could never be ruined."

Grissom pulled open the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. Turning to face Sara, he didn't say a word as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her outside. Sitting together in the lounge chair, he turned her around so that she was seated on his lap, facing him.

"The only thing that I want to do is spend time with you. Everything else is just extra." His piercing blue eyes studied her, looking for signs that she was taking in what he was telling her.

"Sara Sidle, I love you." He spoke the words gently, and in a habit he had almost forgotten from his youth, he lifted his hands and signed the words too. _I love you._

Grissom was at work two days later, sorting through assignment slips before he joined the rest of the night shift. He looked up at the knock on his door.

"Mr. Grissom?" A receptionist stood in the doorway, plain brown package in her hands. "This was just delivered for you."

"Thank you, Judy."

He carefully unwrapped the package, curious as to what it might be. Deliveries to the lab were rarely personally addressed. As he pulled away the paper he revealed a glass covered shadow box. Inside was a perfectly preserved monarch butterfly, the same kind he had held in San Diego when Sara told him that she loved him for the first time. When he turned the box around and read the inscription he had to laugh. Two simple words were scrawled across the piece of paper. _From Sara._

Last chapter coming soon...


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Six months. It was six months, almost to the day, since Sara hand handed Grissom her leave of absence form. Tonight was going to be her first night back at work. The idea of returning to the lab had her more then a little freaked. This morning she woke herself up in a cold sweat, shaken from a nightmare. She had walked into the lab to find that Ecklie was her boss, Greg was lead CSI, and she had forgotten everything she had ever known about forensics. Sitting straight up in the bed she rattled off the periodic table of the elements, both as a way to calm herself down and as proof that all the knowledge she had worked to hard for was still there. Here, in the bright light of day, she could laugh at the dream. While she had been sleeping it had seemed to real. Ecklie's snide comments as he handed out assignments, her own reflection appearing ghostlike in the glass walls, Greg's calm lecturing as he taught her how to lift fingerprints. Greg calm. That should have been a sign right there that she had been dreaming.

"Sara?" Grissom questioned as he also sat up on the bed, rubbing her back in slow circles with the flat of his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's stupid," she responded self deprecatingly.

"I'm just a little nervous about tonight," she sighed.

"That's only natural. But it's just the crew, and you see them all the time."

"What if I can't do my job? What if I've been away too long, and it's not in me anymore?" Sara was off the bed now, pacing the room in an effort to dispel her nerves. "I told you it was stupid."

Grissom caught her the next time she walked past the bed and pulled her to him.

"Sara, tonight is going to be fine. You are a good CSI. I've known a lot of CSIs in thirty years of working for law enforcement, and you are one of the best I've ever worked with. Now, if you don't think you _should_ go to work, that's a different matter."

Sara bristled at that last statement; the subtle questioning behind it was enough to strengthen her resolve.

"Of course I'm going to work. I never said differently." She slid away from him and headed to the bathroom.

Grissom smirked when he heard the shower water turn on. It was good to know he could still push just the right buttons to motivate her. One of the first things he had learned about Sara, back when they were still teacher and student: don't question Sara's ability to do something. She will do everything in her power to prove you wrong.

"I'm leaving for work in an hour," Grissom told Sara when she got out of the shower. "Do you want to ride in with me or are you going to drive in on your own?"

"Why so early?" Shift didn't start for more then two hours. While it once would have been normal for Grissom to arrive at work two or even three hours before shift, all that had changed in the last month.

"I have some phone calls that need to be made earlier then eleven."

"I'll be ready to leave when you are."

It was like arriving for work on any normal day, except that it wasn't. Everything around her seemed to move faster then usual. The florescent lights in the hallway were brighter. The stares of the people were more intense. As Sara walked into the lab on her first night back, she reluctantly let go of Grissom's hand. She felt like a child going to school for the first time.

"I'm going to go put my lunch in the break room fridge." Sara had packed a meal at home: lunch, breakfast, whatever you wanted to call the meal that you eat at three in the morning. She usually didn't eat in the middle of shift, being wrapped up in whatever case she was working, but that was BC. Before cancer. Now she made sure to eat more regularly.

"I'll be in my office," Grissom stated as she walked away.

The break room was uncharacteristically dark, and Sara had to grope for the light switch next to the door. In the moment it took her eyes to adjust to the change in light, shouts of "Surprise" assailed her. Nick, Warrick, Greg, Catherine, Brass and Doc Robbins, plus a handful of lab techs, stood in the middle of the room. Balloons and streamers gave a rather bizarre look to the room. On the table sat a cake, the writing on it proclaiming that she was 'welcome bake.'

"In case you couldn't guess, it's supposed to say welcome back. Someone decided to leave Nicky in charge of ordering the cake." Warrick playfully jabbed his friend in the shoulder.

"Not my fault they couldn't read my writing. Who says welcome bake? They should have called," Nick defended himself.

"Good to know it was a mistake," Sara joked. "For a minute there, I thought you expected me to cook for you."

"That would have been a nightmare. What am I supposed to do when my whole team is in the hospital with food poisoning?" Grissom stepped into the room, briefly resting his hand on Sara's shoulder.

"Hey, not fair. I'm not that bad a cook." Sara tried to pout, but couldn't pull it off with a straight face.

"So why is it that I end up cooking every meal we eat at home?"

"I'm not stupid. Why cook when I have you around?"

Grissom lifted a single eyebrow in response.

No one in the room commented on the by-play between the two CSIs. Neither Sara nor Grissom wanted to have to sneak around, so in the interest of full disclosure, they had told everyone that they were dating. Although dating wasn't really the right word for it. Sara didn't know how to label their relationship. It just... was.

Warrick had simply shrugged when they told him.

Nick had replied with a "well, duh."

Greg had said "cool."

"Is this fact supposed to surprise me?" Brass questioned sardonically.

Catherine, ever blunt, had responded with "it's about time."

And so it became an accepted fact on the night shift. Sara and Grissom were together. Privately the other CSIs agreed that 'Sara's cancer was horrible, but there was a silver lining. It finally resolved things between the two of them.'

For an hour that night everyone ate cake and talked, making sure to let Sara blend in with the group without being the focus of the room, forgetting that there was such a thing as crime. Nick, Warrick, and Archie played football on the PS2. David shyly asked Catherine for advice on a wedding present for his fiancé. Greg spoke with Bobby about some concert he had been to recently. Brass, Grissom, and Al reminisced about some of the more memorable cases they had worked on years earlier. Sara floated from group to group, razing the guys about their game, giving David suggestions, reminding Grissom of a case they had worked together in San Francisco. She paused in the middle of refilling her punch glass to slowly scan the room. Everyone in the world that she cared about was present. Nick had been right, when he visited her after her return from the hospital. She had yelled at him, over something stupid. Before he left she had guiltily apologized. He had brushed it off. _Don't be silly, we're family._ Here, in this room full of scientists, doctors, and cops, she _was_ among family.

Grissom slipped out of the room to collect the night's assignments. He was reluctant to break up the party, but the criminals of Las Vegas apparently didn't care that they were celebrating, and continued to rob, assault, and murder. Returning to the break room he cleared his throat.

"To everything there is a season. A time to be born, a time to die. A time to sow, and a time to reap. A time to eat cake, and a time to return to your jobs."

A collective groan sounded from the group.

"Paraphrasing God now, Gil?" Brass joked.

"Don't you have a crime scene to be at, Jim?" Grissom returned.

He assigned Sara to work with him on the death of an elderly man. He wanted to keep an eye on her. He almost expected her to protest, but she just smiled at him as she picked up her perfectly organized, cleaned and freshly stocked kit.

"What do we know?"

Together they collected the evidence, working in a silent rhythm that made onlookers believe in telepathy. When they returned to the lab Grissom was waylaid by a stack of phone messages handed to him by the receptionist. Three were marked urgent.

"I'll get started on processing." Sara told him as she read the messages over his shoulder.

Grissom sighed. Sometimes, he almost hated being supervisor. People, especially those he was forced to report to, often annoyed him.

"I'll catch up with you as soon as I can."

It took him more then thirty minutes to escape from the phone. Walking down the hall he searched for Sara, noticing that Nick and Catherine had returned from their scene but Greg and Warrick were still gone. On his third try he found her, bent over a microscope.

"Hey, what did you find?"

Sara looked up. "Fiber from the victim's shirt. Looks smooth, maybe silk? Want to see?"

"Sure." He examined the magnified blue fiber.

"What was the victim wearing?" he questioned.

"Slacks and a green polo shirt. No silk, but the next door neighbor was wearing a blue silk dress when I questioned her."

"Looks like we might have a suspect. I'll go call Brass, have him bring in the neighbor."

"Sure thing, boss," she quipped, stressing the word_ boss_ ever so slightly.

Grissom resisted the urge he had to roll his eyes.

"By the way, about your comment earlier. Are you cooking dinner tonight?"

"You wish." Sara turned from him and returned her attention to the evidence. "Now go away Griss. I don't know about you, but I have work to do."

Grissom left the room, turning once at the doorway to look over his shoulder. Sara was one again bent over the microscope. Completely absorbed in her work, she was singing to herself. "_...gone are the dark cloud I left behind. It's gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day."_

_THE END!_

A/N: Wow. I can't believe I completed my story. First thing I've ever written this long. Thank you to everyone who wrote me such kind, happy, helpful reviews. I love all of you. I'm a little depressed now, knowing this story is over. I didn't think anything could beat reading fanfic, but it turns out writing it is even more fun. To everyone who read this, thank you! This is for you, my friends at and YTDAW. A toast to GSR, champagne for everyone!


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